Bruises Of The Midnight Rose
by iCyou
Summary: Draco uncovers Hermione's deepest secret; Her abusive relationship with Ron. Naturally he uses this as means to exploit, demean, and blackmail her. Before she knows it she's become Draco's slave. Yet, perhaps some twisted sort of love could evolve, even in the most difficult of situations.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_This hurts, this hurts, this hurts! _The small innocent child deep inside Hermione shrieked uncomprehending of anything except that this _hurt._

The more sensible, fully matured, side of Hermione ignored her inner juvenile voice as she watched all that transpired between him and her from a distance. She felt every blow her body received, more potent than the last. Yet when she felt it… it was as though this wasn't her pain but the pain of a stranger that had somehow found her while searching for it's true owner.

She watched everything unfold from somewhere just above her body, witnessing all that happened in those few violent minutes numbly. She heard her voice cry out for help. She saw the tears flowing down her pale battered skin. But no one came to her rescue, not that she'd really been expecting any aid. And in all honesty she didn't want any. Sure this hurt… but relief wasn't worth him getting expelled; which would surely be the result.

Her scream was just her going through the motions. No one was even within hearing range. She knew it's shriek was in vain, but still… if she didn't at least _try_ and save herself she'd be no better than those broken, helpless women she'd seen on that muggle show; MSNBC. Though she knew that if this continued, one day she'd stop shouting. It was inevitable. Sooner or later she too would give up, her will erased, barely alive… just like those women on the television.

But she'd put it off for as long as she was able.

At the sound of her shrieks the attacks grew even fiercer. Hermione knew this was in reaction to her vocal SOS. She let her wail grow softer and softer, until finally it became inaudible to even her. It wouldn't do her any good now that she was sure no one was around to listen.

On and on it went… she kept on thinking the end was just around the corner though it never actually was. Wishful thinking, some far away part of her identified. She could sense it when the end in reality was drawing near when his formally quick movements started to slow down and when the force behind his fists began to dissipate, soon vanishing all together as Ron Weasely turned away from his girlfriend, walking down the corridor and back to the Great Hall without another word.

Hermione was more hesitant to leave this spot. She was left beaten and bruised on the cold, hard, floor propped up against the wall, after all was said and done. For once the portraits hanging up and down the passageway were at a loss for words. Some of the bolder paintings eyed her sympathetically while most simply glanced around their picture frame in an attempt to not make eye contact. She knew she'd have to get up before Harry or one of her other friends went looking for her.

She sighed softly and picked herself up off the smooth, marble tile. It was then that she noticed it; blood, and lots of it, trickling down from her forearm. It radiated a sickening crimson. Strange, she didn't recall Ron hitting her there. Under close scrutiny she realized the gash was far too precise and too acute to have been the result of a punch or a kick. Plus she didn't usually bleed unless he hit her _very, very,_ hard.

That's when it hit her. Ron had always carried around the pocketknife he'd received as a gift from some great aunt a while back. But he had never used it on her before… Not until today. She fingered the relatively small wound and knew if he had wanted to he could have done much worse. It wasn't too serious, but it was oozing with the scarlet liquid. It only would require a simple healing spell. She stood up, her body aching but functioning fully as she fumbled through her robe for her wand. Hermione discovered it in one of the many inside pockets of her mandatory school uniform.

She quickly picked it up and started to trace the thin line of freshly cut skin. Idly she wondered how she hadn't noticed it when it happened, but then dismissed it telling herself that pain was pain, it didn't matter if it came in beatings or tiny incisions. How could she differentiate between the two when Ron did both?

She searched her mental spell catalog for a quick solution.

"Episkey!" The spell rolled off her tongue like she'd said it a million times. Come to think of it, she probably had. It wasn't like she could just go to the nurse to take care of her wounds. No, healing was a burden that fell squarely on her own shoulders. When she was finished she was thoroughly convinced that Madame Promfrey herself couldn't have done better. The bruises however were harder to get rid of… The only known cure for them was time, and by the time they turned yellow and faded she'd probably have a brand new collection of them to worry over.

After she had sealed up the wound and finished her musings, she walked slowly but surely in the same direction Ron had taken. She whirled around to survey the scene once more, which was peculiar for Hermione, who under normal circumstances, fled these places as quickly as she could once Ron was done with her.

But something compelled her to turn around just this once. And she saw a pool of bright crimson ugly and foul on the ground of the sacred establishment of Hogwarts… she cringed even smaller because she knew that her blood was unworthy of even touching the floor of such a prestigious, elite, place as this.

She wondered for a moment if anyone would wonder about the bloody mess… but no. They'd just think of it as yet another of the strange and mysterious happenings at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry.

She didn't want to face Ron. Not now, not ever. She didn't like the emotion she felt boiling inside her. It wasn't pride, or bravery, or chivalry… not the emotions of a true Gryffindor. But instead… fear… weakness… shame...

She didn't want to have to meet his blue green eyes as they burned their emerald fire, and watch him smirk only because he had absolute control over her.

He wasn't the stubborn, funny, sometimes thick headed boy she'd fallen in love with… he was changed. Then again she had changed too. She was no longer the strong, courageous, young woman that she used to be. Ron had changed that. He held her heart in his hand, and tore it all to pieces, breaking it down bit by bit, and reassembling it into something so much more fragile than before. Someone that he could abuse the hell out of, someone who would tremble when they saw him coming around the corner, someone who was nothing more than a victim.

Instead of immediately going into the Great Hall to join in the end of the year feast, Hermione drifted up the stairs leading to her House's common room. When she reached the portrait hole the Fat Lady sighed and eyeballed her with pity. Hermione chose to ignore it, as she slowly drawled out the pass word and came inside in an unhurried fashion. She dragged her feet all the way to the stairway leading to the girl's dormitory. She refused to admit to herself that she was stalling for time, so she could put off seeing Ron. In her heart of hearts she knew that most of the reason she was going at a snail's pace was simply to avoid him, though this trip itself was truly necessary if she was to be seen in the public eye.

After what seemed like far too short of a climb to Hermione she arrived in the dorm. Deep inside, she knew that even if there had been a million steps… it would still have seemed like barely ten to her.

Hermione exhaled the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding in sorrowfully. She drifted over to her already packed bags and rummaged through her luggage until she found the item she was searching for. A tiny, half empty jar of concealer. Oh, how she wished she didn't need it. In the past two years that she and Ron had been dating, it had become less and less of a make-up product and more and more of a vital component in their relationship. It covered up the bruises that told the full history from start to finish of Hermione's love life. Starting with a pale yellow dot, and ending in a large blue-ish purple mark on her right shoulder, the bruises told all anyone would ever need to, or want to, know about her twisted "romance".

At this point, the abuse had been going on so long she couldn't remember a time when she didn't need concealer.

She sighed to herself and moved toward the communal bathroom. It was much like Muggle Public restrooms. The only difference was toilet talked to you, and there were no towel dispensers. Mainly because if you couldn't find a single spell to dry your hands off than you weren't a real wizard.

A long stretched out counter held the sinks, and was normally littered with everything from News Papers to Hairdryers. Not today though. Today was the day they left Hogwarts for Summer and most of the girls had removed their things from it leaving the marble perfectly exposed. She placed the Concealer at the very back corner of it, because leaning against the nearby wall was a full length mirror.

She'd thought about doing this before of course she had. But she'd always been too scared to… to see… everything Ron had done to her. But Hermione was struck by the sudden urge to see herself for what she really was. Beaten.

She was confident no one would find her there, disrobing. They were all too busy enjoying themselves down stairs. She let her robe drop the floor, shortly followed by every other article of clothing she wore until she was looking into the full length mirror with the rusted iron frame and at herself completely nude. After the first time Ron hit her she had tried desperately not to catch a glace of herself in mirrors, or even in the reflection off her goblet. When she bathed she scrubbed herself blindly with her eyes tightly shut so she wouldn't have to look at her damaged, defiled body. And now she was. Staring at it blatantly tracing the outline of bruises both new and old… from her shoulders to her legs… they were everywhere.

She stared at the image and wished she hadn't looked in the first place. Without even realizing it she started to cry sorrowful choking sobs. And she stood there and allowed a single tear to fall for every bruise he'd left on her body. By the end of it her face was puffy and red. She didn't worry though. The Concealer would take care of it as well. She reached out for the container and as soon as she had it in her grasp she spread it all of her face, neck, and a small fraction of her shoulders. Anywhere an injury was visible she slathered it on.

Garment by garment she redressed herself. Before she knew it she was walking out the portrait hole yet again , her thoughts gravitating toward Ron as they always did when she was alone with nothing else to preoccupy her mind.

She remembered once when she was a little girl, she heard someone say that for every winner there was a loser. Being the optimistic child she was back then she automatically assumed this was wrong. Everyone could win, because when she thought like that the world had been a much brighter place. She knew better now. For every winner there was a loser.

He had won. Hermione had lost. It was that simple.

She'd lost the minute she met Ronald Weasley with his charming smile, and curly red hair.

Snapping out of her thoughts she made an attempt to lighten her mood with the thought of Summer. At first it did not succeed but then she thought about Summer's implications… No Ron. No more bruises. For a whole three glorious months. Bliss…

She only had a few more hours to get through before the Hogwarts express would whisk her home… and there she could forget all about Ron. At least temporarily. Of course she'd have to come back to school come August but she wouldn't focus on that until she had to. All that mattered was the fact that for_ three full months _she wouldn't be anywhere near Ron Weasley.


	2. The Beginning

**3 months later…**

Hermione Granger kissed her Mother on both cheeks, and threw her arms around her father in a great big bear hug, so tight that it almost broke his spine.

"I'm going to miss you guys so, so much!" she groaned.

"We'll write you every day, dear." her Dad promised.

"And you'll see us at Christmas!" Hermione's Mom tacked on, in continuation to her husband's reassurance.

"It won't be the same…" Hermione insisted, though she knew it made no difference whether she whined or not.

"You'll have Harry, and Ron to keep you company." Ms. Granger attempted unsuccessfully to comfort her daughter.

_That's precisely why I don't want to go…_ She thought silently to herself.

It took a lot of effort to maintain the smile she'd plastered onto her face only to spare her parent's feelings. She knew if she allowed them to see her true despair they'd feel guilty for sending her off to Hogwarts, and in turn she'd feel guilty not only because they'd suffer but also because they'd automatically blame it on themselves when in reality they had nothing to do with her sorrow.

Summer had wasted away so quickly… It seemed like only yesterday she was gazing optimistically up at a blue cloudless sky, thinking of all the fantastic ways she'd squander away the days… and then in the blink of an eye she was watching the golden-brown leaves of fall swirl gracefully down to her feet, the nimble dancers of autumn, and the beautiful but sickening reminder of the coming school year. Hogwarts... it used to be a sanctuary to Hermione. A place of knowledge, safety, magic. In the last couple of years Hermione had stopped putting her "sanctuary" on a pedestal and realized that horrible, sickening, disturbing things could happen anywhere, even Hogwarts.

Now, the moment she'd been dreading had finally arrived. Of course, she'd known all along that she'd have to come back to him sometime… it was as inevitable as the sunset. After all everyone had to obey the laws of gravity.

She had soared so high she had practically touched the stratosphere, but what goes up must come down. It was a law of nature that all had to obey, and she was no exception. And now she was about to hit rock bottom.

Hermione had never been one to prolong the inevitable. She couldn't see the point in it. There are some things that are impossible to run or hide from. Like death, and fate, and oxygen. Ron was also on the list of things that one simply could not avoid.

After she had said her goodbyes she turned around, letting her big fake smile drop; vowing not to look back at her mother and father, for seeing them would make her remember the happy, lazy days of her brief but blissful vacation and make the year of sorrow she had to face seem even more grueling by comparison.

She knew it was unhealthy to force herself into forgetting happy memories for the sake of making a grim, hopeless future not so dark and frightening but it was the only way she could think of to avoid a mental breakdown. If she had to face her bleak, unpromising, fate without even this cold comfort… she wouldn't be able to take even one more step. She'd collapse right there.

She walked briskly toward the seemingly solid, brick column standing between platform nine and ten. Then discreetly, making sure none of the muggles would notice her disappearance she dashed straight into it… and heartbeats later there she was. Platform nine and three quarters, complete with the Hogwarts Express sitting on the rusty iron tracks, patiently waiting for its passengers.

Hermione sighed. This was truly the end of the summer in its purest form. She could taste the hard bitterness of the coming winter like bile to her tongue. Letting summer and all its memories drift away on the wind, Hermione took a deep breath and stepped toward the train as a single solitary tear rolled down her cheek.

She immediately wiped it away, telling herself sullenly that from now on she had to be strong… After all her tears would only freeze in the wake of the coming winter.

* * *

"Elizabeth, you're such a moron!"

"I'm the moron? You can't tell beetle eyes from unicorn hair!"

"I can so! I bet you get sorted into Huffelpuff, wimpy and spineless as you are!"

"WILL YOU BOTH JUST SHUT UP!" Draco Malfoy yelled at the top of his lungs, he'd never been very good at keeping his temper in check and these two were quickly using up his limited patience. Elizabeth Goyle, and Conrad Parkinson, coincidentally the two single most annoying first years to ever live. And of course Draco had to be sitting right in between them. For the love of Merlin, the train hadn't even started yet and already he felt like avada kedavera-ing the both of them. He never had felt more deeply annoyed by any two people on the face of this planet.

"Sorry Uncle Draco…" They apologized in a sing-song, highly rehearsed, unison. It was like they were _trying _to piss him off.

"_I told you to stop calling me that!"_

He had no idea when, how, or why they gave him that nick name all he knew was they insisted on referring to him as 'Uncle' every two seconds and it was really getting on his nerves. To his irritation their older siblings, Greggory Goyle and Pansy Parkinson, just laughed at his aggravation. Draco angrily huffed, and to his frustration it just seemed to make them chuckle even more loudly than before.

He was already exasperated and it wasn't even officially their first day yet. This was going to be one long year, especially with Elizabeth and Conrad around.

"I'm going to go get some water!" He finally announced, knowing that if he stayed another minute he'd be deeply tempted to punch their lights out. He heard them snickering as he slipped out of their compartment and fought the powerful temptation to march right back in there and Bat-Boogie hex the lot of them.

Draco walked slowly down the long carpeted hallway between the compartments looking for the blond haired woman who'd offered them water when they'd first got on, but she was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Hermione dragged her feet as she half-heartedly seeking for her companions' compartment. She was looking forward to seeing Harry, and even Neville and Luna, but just the idea of seeing Ron made her feel nauseous and reminded her of the brand new bottle of concealer she'd boughten just yesterday. She'd left Hogwarts last year never wanting to see another beige container but all too soon it came time to purchase the supply that was supposed to last till the winter holidays though she doubted it would. Not with Ron around. She'd gotten an optimistically small bottle. Now, that she wasn't intoxicated with summer, she wasn't feeling so foolishly confident.

She searched for her friends, the little bottle hidden in the far corner of her bag taking up more and more space in her mind, her stomach getting more and more queasy.

"Hey Hermione, our compartments _way_ back there what are you doing up here?" A voice filled with happiness and friendly curiosity asked.

Hermione turned around to come face to face with bright red hair and emerald eyes… her heart skipped a beat and the thin pink line on her forearm tingled as though it could sense the hands that had created it nearing… but then she saw the soft smile, the glint of light off her metal barrette… Hermione's pulse gradually became less rapid until it once more thumped at a steady, unhurried pace.

"Um… Hi Ginny." She said for lack of a better explanation or greeting.

A look of sudden concern flashed in Ginny's eyes.

"Are you alright? You look a little ill."

She was about to say she was fine, but then an idea struck her. It was simple, and would keep her away from Ron… at least for a few minutes. Long enough to prepare herself for the meeting... Actually, she could take all the time in the world and still not be prepared for that, but she could at least screw her head on a little straighter.

"I-I think I'm… I'm going to be sick. Do you know where the bathroom is, Ginny?" It wasn't that hard to fool her friend. She was already quite a bit green thanks to that little glass container of makeup, and her Ron inspired anxiety. All she had to do was play it up, and make her voice quiver like she was about to vomit. Hermione had never been a very good liar despite her cunning edge, but this was child's play. She already looked the part.

"The girl's restroom is just down there, the last compartment on the left. Do you want me to go with you?"

She pretended to consider it for a moment, just to add depth to her illusion.

"No… Definitely not...I'd feel so embarrassed…"

Ginny nodded in understanding.

"Okay I guess, I'll just go and tell Harry and the others then… Oh, when you're… um…Finished…we're in compartment two-b."

"Got it!" Hermione hollered over her shoulder, pretending to be in a big hurry to get to the bathroom. The minute Ron's younger sister was out of sight, she ducked into the nearest empty compartment. She needed to clear her head, very, very 'd just barely been able to handle talking to her comrade without hyperventilating. Now all alone… she was on the verge of tears.

She was about to face yet another year with Ronald Weasley. Another year of being beaten, slapped, and otherwise abused… A whole year of new bruises, and god only knew what else. She could feel her adrenaline pumping and she hadn't even seen him yet.

Hermione desperately scoured her mind for the answers she needed to the questions she didn't dare to inquire. How to deal with an abusive boyfriend wasn't exactly a topic covered in Hogwarts A History. It wasn't something a book could tell you about. Unless you've lived it, its one of those things that's impossible to truly understand, and even then you never really quite figure out. In most cases you don't even come close. There are no answers, and no questions when one is too frightened by the abuse to even ask them.

She wasn't in control of her bruises… She wasn't even in control of herself anymore. She would always go back to him, because of two equally powerful motivators. The first was fear. Of course, she was afraid. It was only natural. That man had torn her apart, physically, mentally, emotionally, leaving her altered, scarred, and just pitiful. Hermione hadn't lost her pride, strength, or courage... they had been brutally ripped away from her as she fought night-and day to keep them, only to fail and become this pathetic shadow of the person she used to be. The second motivator was a bit more suprising. Despite everything Ron put her through, she couldn't help but still be in love with him. He was a terrifying monster. A brutal, unforgiving abuser. Someone who tortured her day after day, in both heart and body. Yet... despite everything, she still held out hope that somewhere, underneath it all, there was the Ron she knew. The Ron she'd fallen in love with. That love was the last little ember of the fire in her eyes, that had long ago turned to bleak ash.

She sighed.

There was no way to stop this, no way to outwit or outfight her circumstances. She was utterly powerless.

_There is absolutely nothing I can do to save myself, _she realized. She stopped even attempting to stem the flow of tears. It started with a single drop and from there it evolved into a relentless river of anguish as reality hit her again and again, like her face hitting the pavement over and over. Somehow without ever permittiing herself to end up so, she found herself with her head buried between her knees curled up tightly into a ball, in the far corner of the otherwise empty compartment.

All was silent save for the sound of her quiet, choking sobs. Then she heard the audible click of the door sliding open.

Hermione raised her head from her knees and turned to face the intruder, and discovered none other than her blonde haired, pureblooded, Slytherin to boot, rival standing there taking in all with his cold grey eyes. Her arch-enemy gawked with his mouth hanging wide open, the only witness to her moment of weakness.

_Well this day keeps getting better and better doesn't it?_ She thought bitterly.

* * *

"G-Granger?" Stuttered Draco Malfoy. Perhaps, if he hadn't been so startled he would have addressed her with something much less civil than her last name but a weeping mudblood girl had been pretty much the last thing he'd been expecting to find behind that door, and he was quite a bit taken aback. He quickly recovered from his momentary surprise. His initial shock soon morphed into a disturbing sense of pleasure, on the verge of sadism.

The sniveling, frizzy haired, know-it-all, Gryffindor looked up at him; her brown eyes filled to the brim with tears. Seeing him seemed to only intensify her grief. For a single stricken moment he almost felt pity for the girl. Key word 'almost'. It was present only for a brief fraction of a second, before disappearing all together and giving way to alll consuming hatred.

He honestly loathed Hermione Granger. Everything about her, from her beaver teeth her cocky demeanor, was simply repulsive to him. Seeing someone he despised so deeply sobbing hadn't been something he'd been planning to see today, but it was definitely agreeable with him. He did not have any sympathy for mudbloods, especially not Hermione Granger, the foulest of them all.

His original gawking stare soon transformed into an open smirk, as he gazed contentedly down at the mudblood. Crying at the feet of a pureblood, as it should be. He only wished he had been the one cause her sorrow. That would just put the icing on the cake.

"Go a-a-away, Malf-f-foy." She struggled to speak, but the words kept muddling and twisting inside her mouth before she could voice them.

They both knew he had no intention of leaving.

"Trouble in paradise, Granger? And here I thought it was all roses, and daises since you started snogging that blood traitor."

He could see it in the dejection that eminated from her despair filled eyes. He had definitely struck a nerve of some kind. It wasn't like he actually cared what was wrong with the mudblood. But he loved harassing people with a passion, and it would seem this was the route to take if he wanted to agitate her.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, you disgusting little ferret. Now leave!" Granger seemed to finally find her voice, giving it a little power, though it shook slightly.

Though her words were forceful, her eyes flashed a vulnerable light that didn't go unnoticed by Draco.

"Ah. Bo_y_ issues. I see. So I take it you and Weasley had a falling out, or are you shagging Potter now too?" He sneered.

"Shut up, Malfoy! It's none of your bloody business!" Granger practically shouted. She was right of course, but at the moment Draco would do anything he could if only to get under her skin. He would make it his business.

"I must say I agree with you. It isn't any of my concern. But I believe it could be considered Potter and Weasley's don't you think? Perhaps I should go and fetch them…" He threatened, narrowing his eyes. He knew this would get a huge rise out of her. From the little he knew about the mudblood she wouldn't want anyone to see her like this, let alone her close friends. She was too annoyingly proud.

"_No!" _She hissed at him, her brown eyes displaying an ever more potent sense of helplessness. She tried very hard to conceal it, but nothing escaped Draco's cunning observation.

"Then tell me why in the name of hell you're on the ground crying."

"Why do you even care?" Hermione replied angrily. To Draco the anger didn't seem to fit with the tears in her eyes, or the aura of vulnurability that engulfed her. He knew she was very weak underneath the facade of violent anger. It was all merely a clever ruse to cover her inner frailty.

"I dont _care_, you stupid mudblood. I'm curious. There's a big difference between the two. And I'm _curious _because, though I don't find your life fascinating in the slightest I have nothing better to do than annoy you. " Draco drawled obnoxiously.

"Trust me you snivelling git, you have succeeded. Now, go! Leave me alone!"

"Tell me what's going on and I might consider going on my merry way."

"Never!"

"Then I'll go get Potty and the Weasel King."

"No!"

"Then tell me."

"I won't tell you anything."

"You speak as though you have a choice Mud-Blood." He finally said, his patience not waning but gone. He was a Malfoy, and as a Malfoy he was not used to being thwarted and would not tolerate it. Her persistance not to tell, just increased his urge to know. She had a weakpoint, something Draco could easily take advantage of, something that would cause her pain, and he would force her to reveal it to him even if he had to stay here the entire ride to Hogwarts. He would do anything to make her life miserable.

He always got what he wanted, and at the moment he wanted the information Granger stubbornly refused to give him. Not only was he a Malfoy, he was also a Slytherin. The cunning type of wizard, who would go through any means to get to the desired end.

He gave Hermione one more chance.

"Are you sure you won't tell me?"

"Positive. Now get out, you infuriating prick."

Draco sighed. He hadn't wanted to resort to this. Oh well, it didn't matter.

He raised his hand against the crying girl as though to strike her. Hard. It was only a bluff. He thought she would have seen through the façade easily intelligent as she appeared to be, that's why it was a last resort. It seemed far too fallible. He was surprised she flinched away, violently recoiling, eyes shut tight preparing for a genuine blow. He'd been anticipating for her to quickly see through the thin deception, and insult him again.

_She's scared, _he realized, s_cared of me… but Granger's never been afraid of me before… and she's had reason enough to be over the years. Why now?_

He gazed at her steadily, scanning every square inch of her body, seeking a clue. He found it when he looked at the crook of her neck, on the left side. There was a rather large patch of greenish yellow, an old bruise. _The neck is a difficult place to bruise by one's own doing... it's the kind of bruise normally inflicted by the hands of another,_ Draco thought to himself. It was then that he put two and pieces of the puzzle toghether.

With her still trembling before him, Draco abrupty knelt down and grabbed her suddenly by the arm. She tried desperatly to pull away but his grip was unbreakable. Her forearm was trapped in his pale fingers. She cried out, expecting him to hurt her somehow. Draco didn't care. She could cry out all she wanted, it didn't make any difference to him.

Draco yanked back the sleeve of her black robe and underneath the fabric, he discovered all the information on Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley's love life that he'd ever need.

He saw her three-month old bruises still left fading. He saw them in yellows, blues, purples, even light green. There was one injury that stood out from the rest. A single, thin, pink line marring her flesh. Obviously from some type of knife. He gasped out-loud. Hermione Granger, Gryffindor prefect, obnoxious, bold, daring Hermione Granger… had an abusive boyfriend.

Draco chuckled and dropped her arm. So this was the deep dark secret she'd been so hell bent to protect.

"Hmmm…. Looks like I've found out your dirty little secret, mudblood. Didn't think Weasel had the balls to do something like that."

Draco, being the Slytherin he was, calculated a million different ways he could maneuver his new found discovery to benefit himself.

"If you don't forget everything you just saw, Malfoy, I swear to god I'll… I'll…"

"You'll what? Throttle me? After that little display, I seriously doubt you're capable of even scratching me." Draco laughed cruelly.

The both knew he was right but the mudblood wouldn't give up her argument just yet.

"Not even scratch you? I punched you in the nose in our third year!"

"Apparently things have changed quite a bit since third year. I assume you'd like to keep this little incident between us, correct?" Draco quirked his eyebrow.

Hermione gave no audible response, just say with her mouth hanging open and tears in her eyes.

"Well, mudblood?"

Finally, Granger relented, nodding her agreement.

Draco grinned. This was where he manipulated the state of affairs until it was in his favor. Initiating devious plots was what Slytherins did best.

"I'll keep my mouth shut, Granger... but nothing in life is free, and that includes my silence."

Granger sighed aloud, "Name your price, Malfoy."

"Anything I want. I want you to do anything I want without arguement."

"For how long?" Hermione questioned.

He looked at her like she was a five-year-old.

"For however long I want you to."

"I can't say yes to that."

"You can't say no either, mudblood."

* * *

Hermione gulped. 'Anything' wasn't something to be taken lightly, but she didn't really have any other option. She couldn't risk the world knowing about her abusive love life. Ron would get in serious trouble, and she would be forced to show the world just how weak and cowardly she'd become. It was an awful fate, something she would prevent at any cost. Draco's alternitive option was horrid, descpicable, and repulsive. But she had to protect her reputation, her secret, and Ron, at any cost. Even if it meant selling her soul to the devil, or in this case being a virtual slave to Draco Malfoy.

She had to give in to his terms.

"I…" She almost couldn't bare to speak the words because in her mind once she acknowleged her defeat aloud, she had signed over her free will. Though, Hermione knew she had indeed lost, she would not give Malfoy the satisfaction of hearing her put that loss into verbal format.

"I… I think you're a complete ass Draco Malfoy!" Hermione announced instead. Her insult fell flat. They both knew Draco's attempt at exploitation had undoubtedly, irrevociably, and absolutley worked.

He smirked down at her, sadism in his eyes.

"Then from this moment on, Mud-blood, you are the slave of an ass."

* * *

And just like that, without another word in her direction Draco exited the cabin and went on his merry way.

Frankly he had no desire for anything she could give him or do for him. He just liked possessing power over people. Any kind of people. Even people of tainted blood lines like Granger.

He'd gone into that compartment in search of a water cart, but found something so much more delightfully entertaining.

_Well who would have guessed something as disgusting as Granger could provide me so much amusement?_


	3. Almost

**Alright, alright… so I waited over a year without updating. Sorry for the really long wait, so from this point on I'm going to sincerely try to make this the most epic story you will ever read. Some people have commented asking why in the world Ron's become such a horrible person and why he abuses Hermione. There's actually a very good and realistic back story to it, so just try and go with it until the story's at a point where it can be revealed. I know the first 2 chapters were kind of rough but I made them both when I was a lot less mature in my writing so sorry. I plan on editing them. Anyway… thanks for all the reviews and enjoy.**

Hermione Granger watched as her worst enemy walked out the door with a smirk on his face and sadistic sparkle in his eye. He slid the door in place again, without so much as glancing backward. She knew she had just made one of the worst mistakes of her life, but what else could she have done? Let him expose all her horrid secrets to the world? She cried, sobbing more than ever. What had she gotten herself into? How had she ended up so utterly broken?

Beaten by her boyfriend and black-mailed by Malfoy… when had she become so weak? So scared? So pitiful? So pathetic?

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be brave, heroic, and brillant. Not a victim. How in the world had she crumbled to such ruin? At what point in her life did she suddenly fall from grace and into this seemingly endless pit of hopeless despair?

She couldn't really remember a time when she didn't feel like this. She knew there had been one, but it seemed like it must have been ages ago, so far back that she'd lost the ability to remember what it had been like. Hermione hated not being able to remember when she was last happy. It felt like she was taking a big step forward into the world of an MSNBC 'Domestic Violence' special.

It seemed like the room suddenly reeked of sweat, tears, and blood. Maybe it was just her imagination, or maybe it was just because Malfoy had stunk up the place. It wouldn't surprise her if he constantly smelt like that. He was a deatheater after all.

It was then that the realization hit her. A known deatheater had her under his complete control, totally at his mercy. She was obligated to do anything he asked of her or risk the gruesome tale of her love life spreading through the wizarding world like wild fire. She cried even harder thinking of all the things she might have to do, all the people that could end up being hurt... including herself.

As if being the virtual slave to one of Voldemort's demented little friends wasn't enough, she was stuck with Draco Malfoy. She was pretty sure the only worse person she could be in this kind of situation with would be the 'Dark Lord' himself.

Malfoy was a sick, twisted, cruel, loathsome, disgusting, evil young man. To top it all off he hated Hermione with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

She couldn't decide who she was more scared of, Ron or Malfoy. She was deeply frightened by both of them. Draco could hurt her, Ron could hurt her. Both definitely would.

Hermione felt the train jolt into motion as it began to roll away from platform nine and three quarters, beginning the journey to Hogwarts. With all the things she had threatening her life, heart, and sanity her former revered safe haven quickly transformed into her own personal hell when she envisioned the year to come.

She was still crying and might have stayed there for Merlin knows how long, if she hadn't known she had to get up. Ron would probably be mad with her for being late. Then again he would have found something to hit her for rather she was late meeting him or not. He always seemed to find something.

Either way she couldn't keep him waiting much longer. Every minute that ticked by was another fresh bruise on her marred flesh. The longer she avoided him, the more painful the reunion would be.

She didn't see the point in sticking around any longer.

Hermione got up, wiped the tears from her eyes, and tried hard to smile. Walking out that door and willingly back into her nightmarish reality was easily one of the most difficult things she'd ever had to do.

* * *

Draco Malfoy skipped down the hallway with a spring in his step and the wonderful feeling of power coursing through his veins. He'd finally bested Hermione Granger. He had her entirely at his mercy just like he'd always wanted. He felt like he was on top of the world.

He knew he was a sadistic bastard for taking advantage of her situation, and enjoying it so thoroughly. He just didn't care. Why should he?

He hated her with every fiber of his being, and now she finally was in her place. The mudblood subservient to the pureblood, the mouse at the mercy of the cat, the prey succumbing to the predator. This was how things were supposed to be.

Granger was just a simple mudblood, for whom he had not even an ounce of sympathy. Maybe, if she had been a pureblood he would have at least pretended to care about her situation instead of blackmailing her with it. Even if she had been a pureblood, chances were he still wouldn't have given a damn, but he would have at least go through the motions. He certaintly wouldn't have taken advantage of it. But she wasn't a pureblood and that changed things a lot. It made her nothing more than dirt, a toy for Draco's amusmant.

He opened the door to his compartment, ignoring the easily accessable seat between Conrad and Elizabeth, instead opting to cram between Pansy and Goyle.

Everyone openly stared at him. He hardly ever smiled but at the moment he was practically glowing with mirth, his grin gleeful and wide.

"What's got you so happy?" Pansy cocked her head to the side.

"Oh, nothing."

"Seriously, what's going on?"

"Can't a man just be happy without getting the third degree?"

"Not if that man's you. You're normally such a pathetic, miserable, angry bastard it's practically a sign of the apocalypse to see you looking like this."

Draco glowered at Pansy for a moment at the mention of "pathetic, miserable, angry bastard", but let his irritation subside quickly. He was far too mirthful to deal with her childish insults.

"Well, I'm happy right now. Deal with it."

"Uncle Draco where's the water?" One of the first year pests inquired in their annoyingly high, nasaly voice. Draco didn't even care for once. Nothing could piss him off right now. Not even two stupid first years that didn't know the meaning of the phrase "Shut the hell up".

"I wasn't thirsty anymore." Draco said with a smirk.

Everyone sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes. Everyone knew that when Draco was this happy someone somewhere either was in, or was about to be in, a lot of pain.

All of them silently pondered what in the world could have happened to make Draco so positively joyous.

Eventually they all decided to let it go, and continue on with their normal conversation, though they continuously glanced at Draco's smile with a mix of curiosity and fear.

For the rest of the train ride Draco Malfoy didn't speak a single word. He just sat there with his strange smirk, and a horribly gleeful shine to his eyes.

* * *

Hermione found compartment two-B with relative ease. She closed her eyes tightly and took a large gulp of air, hoping it would give her strength somehow but knowing deep down that it wouldn't.

Silently praying to all the deities she could think of she slide open the door and there they were. All five of them. Harry was nearest to the door and when she walked in he greeted her with a smile. Sitting next to him was, of course, Ginny. She threw Hermione a relieved look, glad to see that her friend hadn't vomited her brains out. Next to her sat Luna Lovegood who didn't even look up at her arrival, instead looking out the window probably at something that only she could see. Opposite to her sat Neville who gave her a sheepish grin and a quick hello. She smiled back at all of them, they're presence putting her at ease, if only a little.

Then she saw him.

He simplylooked at her coldly from behind emerald eyes.

"Hermione, I'm so happy to see you're alright." He said with a wave of fake relief. His eyes said it all. She was in for it as soon as they were alone.

"Just a little stomach bug is all." She replied with an equally fake smile.

He patted the seat next to him. She complied, but couldn't help shrinking away from him a little. When they're skin touched a shiver ran down her spine, and not the good kind. The kind that made her want to curl into a ball like a rolly-polly, and be crushed to death in between sidewalk and sneaker like a bug.

"Hi!" Ginny suddenly broke the strange silence with her perky voice. She threw everyone including Hermione and Ron into instant conversation. It almost helped ease her fear. Almost.


	4. Shame

Draco Malfoy walked through the doors to Hogwarts still in the same haze of sadistic joy. His fellow Slytherins were starting to get a little bit worried, not for him, but for themselves. If he was this happy someone had either already been hurt or someone was about to be tortured until they had a mental breakdown. Everyone couldn't help but wonder if they were the victim he had in mind, or if they'd, perhaps, already been victimized and just didn't realize it yet.

Like every year, they were all herded into the great hall for the beginning of the year feast.

Draco paid just enough attention to the sorting ceremony to notice that both Elizabeth and Conrad, the annoying first years from the train, had been sorted into Slytherin. No big surprise.

Draco managed to tune out all the clapping and whooping, instead daydreaming about all the horrible things he'd do to Hermione Granger. He was going to make her life into absolute hell, like she deserved. She was always such a stupid, stuck up, beaver toothed, curly haired, little mudblood. This was finally his opportunity to teach her a lesson. He'd been waiting to for a very, very long time.

Tuning out the opening speeches and beginning of school whatnot he focused on his victim from across the room following her every movement with his peircing grey eyes.

She looked pale and tiny. He didn't miss the slight shaking and the way her hands trembled. She scooted away from Weasley quickly, choosing to sit abnormally close to Luna Lovegood. Weasley gazed steadily at her, well concealed mallice shining in the depths of his blue-green eyes. Granger stared back at him with her big brown ones that were open wide and glistening with unshed tears.

She leaned even closer to Luna. All the people around her were lost in animated conversation, including Weasley, despite his under the radar aggrivation. Luna didn't seem to care at all about Granger's unusually close vacinity, in fact, she seemed to take no notice of it at all.

Draco silently observed as Weasley sent a scathing look in her direction. She looked like she was about to have a mental breakdown. Her eyes were wide and petrified with absolute fear, like a deer caught in the headlights. Draco noticed her lips move every so often, forming words. He imagined that he wasn't the only one noticing her change in demeanor, and her friends were probably trying to get her to tell them what was wrong. He knew she would just give a lame excuse.

When her lips stopped moving, Weasley glared at her, and Granger gulped silently and began to eat her food with shaky hands and a nervous expression.

Draco watched apathetically from across the room. Granger seemed to notice him watching, as she glanced up from the corner of her eye and her already fearful expression deepened. He just smirked back at her and winked wordlessly.

Weasley saw the exchange and his freckled cheeks flushed with rage. It wasn't a change most people would notice, not even the people surrounding him, unless they were actively watching with the intensity Draco was. Immediately, Weasley pulled himself up from the table, dragging Hermione along with him by her wrist. To an outside party it would look like a simple boyfriend and girlfriend holding hands, but Draco knew better. He was in on their dirty little secret. Granger looked back at Draco helplessly as she silently allowed Weasley to carry her off to Merlin knew where to do Merlin knows what.

Draco wondered in the back of his mind what she had done to set him off. Perhaps, nothing at all. He'd spent his entire life around deatheaters. He'd seen quite a few women beaten over the years, and knew that some guys didn't even need a trigger. Some guys were just ticking time bombs that would go off at almost anything, and beat the hell out of their kids, their pets, their wives... anyone really.

It wasn't like Draco really cared what Granger had done wrong, or if she had done anything wrong at all. It was none of his concern, and he didn't have any issue with it. It was Hermione Granger, for crying out loud. She was his worst enemy. Arch-rival. Nemesis. She was number one on his hit list.

He didn't give a damn what happened to her.

* * *

"What the bloody hell are you doing with Malfoy?" Ron roared as soon as they were out of the room.

He pushed Hermione up against the nearest wall and blind fury pulsed behind his emerald eyes, as he made no attempt to conceal it now that he didn't have an audience to worry about. Hermione made herself very small, shuddering into the wall with a whimper.

"Answer me when I talk to you! What's up with you and Malfoy?" He shouted as he kicked her roughly in the shin. She nearly collapsed to her knees as it gave out from under her, catching herself just in time.

"N-nothing." She stammered.

"Lying bitch! I saw the way he winked at you!" He slapped her once across the face. Tears leaked out of her eyes.

"I-I'm S-sorry." She apologized as she chocked on her pain and fear.

"Maybe, I need to remind you who you belong to. Maybe you forgot over the summer."

"N-No!" She begged.

"Yes. Get on your knees, bitch." He glowered at her menacingly.

"Please, Ron!" She cried out.

In response he delivered a quick back hand, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her in between his legs.

_Merlin, not again!_

She thought as she sobbed but obeyed his every order. It would only be worse for her if she didn't. Resistance was futile.

This wasn't the man she'd fallen in love with. This was a monster. Somewhere between here and there he'd lost himself, and turned into this. It wasn't a gradual transformation. One day he just came to her pissed off in an empty room and started yelling at her and hitting her, and all kinds of things.

She'd changed too. She'd given up the fight. She was no longer brave, rebellious, or noble. Now, she was just trying to survive.

He didn't let her come back up until they started hearing people leaving the great hall. He didn't say a word, just walking away like nothing had happened. Hermione couldn't stop crying.

She didn't want to let anyone see her like this. She ran away in any direction she could. She didn't care, just as long as it was far away from anyone who might see her weakness and shame.


	5. Master

**I received a couple of reviews asking me when Draco would begin to care about Hermione.**

**My response:**

**Who said he ever would? I'm trying to keep this as close to a realistic portrayal of not only Draco but all the characters as I possibly can. Draco is a sick, sadistic, young man and I'm keeping him true to his character. I hate those fics when suddenly Draco's not… Draco. I refuse to be one of those fics. If he begins to care it will be a very gradual change not something I'm going to jump right into. Please, try and understand that Draco is actually Draco in this. If anything had become of them in the books it wouldn't have happened overnight, and had been a gradual type of thing. I hate it when people just throw these two together and expect them to suddenly fall in love. That's just not how things work, and it's not how I roll either. Just wait for a while, and I think you'll like what I have planned.**

Draco Malfoy walked out the door, at the head of the crowd. He followed the familiar route to the Slytherin common room, without skipping a beat. After just a couple of passageways he was walking so fast that his fellow house members had lost sight of him as he maneuvered all the sharp twists and turns with ease and precision.

He was impatient to get to his common room. He had no particular reason why. He was just an impatient person by nature with almost everything in his life. The others were not too far behind him, just far enough that they were out of sight and out of his hearing range.

He didn't like having a lot of people surrounding him all the time especially people he didn't like, such as annoying first years and the majority of his fellow Slytherins. Most of the time he liked how he was the center of their attention and always at the head of the pack, but after a while those people just irritated him to the point where all he wanted to do was jump out the nearest window.

He liked the feel of silence. In that moment, he could sense it in the atmosphere like soft velvet to his ears, and hear a quiet song in the noiseless air.

The sadistic gleam in his eyes had dimmed, and gave way to a look of rare peace. He forgot all about torture, blood, and even the Dark Lord if only for a few instants. He seldom was able to find any level of tranquility in his life, so once given the opportunity he pounced on it. He allowed the serenity to envelope him, and for once in his life he wasn't filled with hatred of malice.

It was like he was deep under water and all the sounds that in reality weren't so far away, were heard from under a thousand gallons of rolling ocean waves. He smiled softly.

This was a good way to start the year. He had Hermione Granger under his thumb, and the chance to enjoy some fleeting calm for once. Just as fast as his lunatic like sadism had passed it returned yet again as he thought of his latest victim. By the time he was done with Granger she'd either be incurably insane or dead. Either would be fine by him.

He smirked his familiar wicked grin, and just like that he reverted right back to his usual self.

Draco sensed the rest of his house members closing in, quickly catching up, their loud chatter reclaiming the quiet hush he found so pleasurable. He sped up in response. He didn't want to let the moment pass him by too soon, even though he'd already tainted the golden silence with his sinister thoughts. He wasn't quite ready to let go of the moment entirely just yet, despite that fact that it was already all but gone.

That's when he heard it. Quiet sobbing coming from up ahead.

Tilting his head in curiosity he persued the noise, silently but swiftly drifting towards its source. He turned another corner, before a sight stopped him dead in his tracks.

There she was. Hermione Granger. She looked like a ghost… no, not even a ghost but the empty shell of a ghost. She was pale and gaunt and sickly looking. She was shaking, cowering close to the wall. She covered her face with her hands and curled up into a little ball on the floor, adjacent to a marble tatue of a serpent.

"Granger?" Draco gasped. His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open a little. This, he hadn't been expecting. What was she doing here? She shrank even closer to the wall as she peeked at him through a thin break in her fingers. Her brown eyes were rimmed red with tears.

"P-please don't hurt me." She stuttered in a small, scared, voice. He took a step forward and she winced, whimpering slightly.

"What happened?" He asked, keeping all emotion out of his voice.

She just sobbed into her hands without response.

"Tell me, Granger." Draco commanded. It wasn't like he really cared, he was just curious.

"This is all your fault!" She suddenly got up off the floor, glaring at him, all traces of fear gone. Just anger and bitterness.

He yelled right back.

"How the bloody hell is anything that happens to you _my_ fault? Dumb, mudblood bitch!"

As soon as he started yelling she automatically shrank away. He began to stomp away from her. What was the point? There was nothing to gain from talking to her about this shit. It wasn't his problem. He didn't even know why he asked in the first place. It didn't matter. Before he left he turned around and took on his familiar sinister expression.

"By the way, Granger, you're right in the path to the Slytherin common room. Expect to see about forty Slytherins in the next minute or so, all of which will have no issue with tearing you to pieces. Best prepare yourself." Granger's tearful eyes grew wide with terror.

"If you try going back down you'll just run right into them." He smiled demonically at her. They'd rip her to shreds.

She looked at him with animalistic fright in her eyes.

"I could help you get out of here you know. If you beg for it."

"Please?" She pleaded in a tear soaked whisper.

"That doesn't sound like begging to me."

"W-what d-do you want me to say?" She questioned barely audible even at a short distance. He could hear his fellow Slytherins fast approaching. By the look on her face she heard them just as well as he did.

"Say: Please, Draco, for I am but a filthy mud-blood entirely at your mercy. I am in desperate need of the assistance of my far superior pure-blooded Master."

"Master?" She repeated sounding like she could burst into tears at any minute.

"Well, we have an agreement don't we? You are required to do whatever I say. Isn't that the definition of having a Master? I own you, Granger."

"Y-y-you are despicable!" She sobbed.

"Perhaps, but _you_ are running out of time." Draco said as he looked pointedly in the direction of the voices that were drawing ever closer.

* * *

"Please, Draco, for I am but a filthy mud-blood entirely at your mercy. I am in desperate need of the assistance of my far superior pure-blooded Master." The words tasted like bile in Hermione Grangers mouth, but she said them anyway because she had no other options left. It was easily the most degrading thing she'd ever had to say. First she had to please Ron against her will and now this… she'd never felt more ashamed.

She'd sunken so low. If her old self had only known what she would become, perhaps she would have killed herself back when she still had the courage to. She never would have dreamed she'd be saying those words to Draco Malfoy. Not in her wildest nightmares. The word "Master" just put the icing on the cake. It was pure torture to have to call another human being, especially one she hated so fully, her Master.

"Good girl." He said as though he was speaking to a dog. It was obviously meant to throw salt into her open wound. She flinched violently when her "Master" reached in and grabbed her arm in a vice grip, yanking her to her feet.

"Come on." He ordered as he dragged her farther down the hall.

She followed him without a fight. Ever since Ron started hurting her, she'd learned it was best to just obey, and go along with whatever anyone wanted her to do. It made her life a little less painful if she submitted quickly.

Damn, she hated herself. She absolutely loathed the weak, pathetic, person she'd become.

_Oh, how the mighty have fallen…_ She thought as the word "Master" echoed in her mind over and over again.

Abused by her boyfriend, apparent slave to her worst enemy. The lioness had officially succumbed to a mere serpent, and lost almost everything to the fellow lion she loved.

She didn't deserve to be called a Gryffindor anymore. She didn't even deserve to be a witch. She didn't even deserve to exist period.

Malfoy kept one hand firmly hanging onto her arm as he pulled her through a maze of hallways. Finally, he threw open a door at the end of one particularly long and narrow corridor. He simply shoved her inside wordlessly, before clambering in after her.

Looking around she found herself at the base of a twisting spiral staircase that seemed to go on for miles upward. There were no pictures hung on the brick walls and the steps were made of a wood that looked near rotting.

"Where are we?" She asked. Her voice echoed all around, like she was in some kind of cavern. For a few seconds she was too distracted by the mysterious place in which she now stood, that she actually forgot about Ron and her new-found issues with Malfoy. She was just filled with curiosity. Then her leg throbbed painfully from where Ron had kicked her, and she remembered all about cold, cruel reality.

"Slytherin Tower. It hasn't been used in a very long time. I'm probably the only student from this era that's actually managed to find it." Malfoy explained, for once speaking without any contempt or degradation.

"How did you-?"

"Doesn't matter. I need to get back to the Slytherin common room. They're probably all looking for me by now. Thanks, for making me late, you stupid mud-blood."

Hermione lowered her eyes to the floor silently.

"Go up the stairs. There's a room at the top. Stay there until I return."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to." He looked at her coldly.

He walked out the door again without another word, leaving her to her own devices. Hermione stared at the door as it closed behind him, considering leaving anyway. Then she realized she had no idea how to get back to the Gryffindor common room and even if she did there'd be no point in going. All she had to look forward to there was Ron, and she didn't want to see him again for as long as she could.

She decided to just do as he told her. Half because she no other options, and half because she was scared of what he'd do to her if she didn't. He was probably just like Ron. Maybe, worse.

The stairs creaked under her weight, and she was slightly worried that maybe they'd collapse as she walked. She kept going anyway, because she nowhere else to go but upward. Even if the weak steps did fall through, it wouldn't matter. Even if she the wood gave way miles into the air, and she fell to her death it wouldn't matter. Hermione wasn't suicidal, but she wasn't exactly in love with life either. She was neutral. She didn't care one way or the other.

It took her about fifteen minutes to make it to the top on foot. She was surprised that this tower had gone unnoticed for so long, then again there were plenty of areas in Hogwarts that no one ever stepped foot in.

There was a door at the end of the stairwell just as Malfoy said there would be. What he hadn't mentioned was that it would be on the ceiling.

The last step was up so close to the ceiling, that you could just reach up and touch the door knob. It looked like a regular door. Something you would see in an average muggle home, except it was hanging upside down.

Hermione reluctantly grabbed the handle, and the door swung open nearly hitting her. A step ladder of rope automatically dropped down from the room above. Hesitantly she ascended it, unsure of what lay waiting for her inside.

The answer was absolutely nothing.

No furniture. No pictures. No windows. Just a small circular room lined with magic candles that never flickered out. The floor was of polished wood, and dustless, and unlike the stairs, didn't have a hint of rot. Her every movement could be heard throughout the room, her shoes clicking against the hardwood loudly, like a tapdancer. After a few minutes of pacing, she had had just about enough noise for the rest of her life. She eventually just kicked off her shoes, walking around barefoot. It sounded so much more pleasant against the hard-wood floor.

The light of the candles casted her shadow in six different directions, and each shadow seemed to have a mind of its own. They all danced in the glow of the flame, to the beat of an unknown drummer. Hermione eventually sat down in the middle of the room Indian style, strangely unaffected by the dark figures that surrounded her.

They were hypnotic in a way. She couldn't help but watch them. They seemed to leap off the wall and come to life. They were beautiful, stunning, and oddly terrifying to look at.

They kept her mind peacefully blank for once. No thoughts of pain, fear, anything… just the shadows that seemed to engulf everything in sight.

She had no idea how long she was there for. Minutes. Hours. Days. She didn't care.

"I see you found your way up here, mudblood." A voice whispered from beside her. Hermione immediately jumped, backing away and shielding her face with her hands sure that someone was there to hurt her. It seemed like that was all anyone wanted to do now days.

Malfoy sat in soft light of the smoldering candles smirking. How had she missed him? He had been sitting close enough to touch. She hadn't even heard him come in.

"Sit." He commanded pointing to the spot beside him she'd vacated just moments ago.

She did as she was told. Just like she always did.

* * *

"What were you doing in the Slytherin corridor?" Draco questioned immediately.

No answer.

"Answer me." Draco ordered quietly, but menacingly nonetheless.

"Crying." She answered bluntly.

"Why?" He didn't really care. He was just interested because she'd pequed his curiosity somehow. He wasn't quite sure why he was so curious, but he didn't need a reason to be. He could do whatever he wanted, rather it made sense or not.

Silence.

"Tell me. Now." Her silence just made him want to know more.

Silence for a moment more, then abrupt sobbing. He looked up and she was crying hysterically into her hands.

"R-Ron." She managed to choke out.

"Look at me, mudblood." He commanded. When she didn't, he simply grabbed her wrists and forcefully pulled her hands away from her face so he could look her in the eyes.

He didn't care one little bit what happened to her, but the fact that she didn't seem to want him to know made him want to know more than ever.

He examined her face. No new bruises. He looked up and down her body. Her clothes were torn in places they hadn't been the last time he saw her. Other than that there was nothing amiss.

"You don't have any new marks on you." He let her hands go. She was probably just going crazy or something. Wouldn't surprise him.

"He-h-he didn't hit me much this time." Her brown eyes were filled to the brim with tears.

Then he put two and two together. The ripped cloths. The crying eyes. The tortured look on her face. He just blinked, a little astonished.

"He made me put my mouth around… oh, Merlin. It was horrible!" She seemed to be growing more and more hysterical. Draco said nothing, keeping the stone-cold, apathetic look on his face.

"And it's all because of you!" Granger suddenly glared at him. She attempted to hit him but he dodged easily.

"You're blaming _me_ because _your_ boyfriend violated your mouth? That has absolutely nothing to do with me, you stupid bitch!"

He was beginning to get angry. Why'd she keep blaming him? It wasn't any of his fault.

"He did it to me because he thought I was shagging you, so he punished me by making me… making me… I can't even say it!"

Then Draco put all the pieces together, and he knew. He saw the pain in her eyes and he knew what Weasley had done to her and why.

He had to admit on some level he felt guilty, but on every other level he felt the same as he always did. Indifferent.

"I didn't do that to you. He did. Blame your boyfriend." He stated bluntly, without emotion.

Hermione kept on crying and for some reason Draco didn't walk away, even though he had no further reason to stay.

She was sobbing so pathetically and kept babbling on about shame and dishonor. After listening to her cry hysterically for a couple minutes he'd gathered most of the story.

Weasley caught him winking at her and thought she was cheating on him. So, he taught her a lesson in the cruelest way he could think of. He forced her to her knees and violated her.

Something deep inside Draco hated seeing her cry, when someone had hurt her that wasn't him. She was his to torture. His victim. Not Weasley's, not anyone else's. Just his. Only his.

So, he said the only thing he could think of to make her feel even remotely decent about herself.

"Listen to me, mudblood, and listen good, because I'm not about to repeat myself. You didn't volunteer to do that. You didn't get on your knees and offer to suck his dick, like a whore. You have no need for shame. He's the one that should be ashamed, not you. You haven't lost an ounce of dignity, so don't feel like you're any less of a person now than you were before. Though the person you were before was pretty disgusting and pathetic anyway."

To his surprise she actually stopped crying, if only for the moment.

"What time is it?" She asked quietly, after a few minutes of silence, her voice cracking.

Draco decided to actually answer instead of just giving her a snarky response.

"It was about three A.M when I started up here, so probably around three thirty."

"We should be getting back."

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean we're both going to stay put."

"You can do what you want, but I'm leaving."

"No, you're not."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm telling you to stay here, and in case you've forgotten I still own you."

She sighed.

"Why do you even want to stay here?"

"Mostly, because if we leave now we'll probably get caught by Filch or Ms. Norris."

"How do you know they won't just find us up here anyway?"

"They just won't."

With that the two of them fell silent. They didn't speak a single word for the rest of the night, but Draco didn't see a need for chatter and obviously Hermione was perfectly content with the quiet as well.

Eventually Hermione fell asleep on the floor, though Draco stayed wide awake. He watched her steady breathing and tranquil expression apathetically. Little did he know that that was the first night in over a year that Hermione wouldn't be haunted by nightmares or Ronald Weasley.


	6. The Morning After

**Wow you guys are fantastic! Thanks for all the reviews!**

**THANKS SO MUCH! I LOVE YOU GUYS! -internet hugs all around-**

"Where were you last night?" Ginny questioned as Hermione stumbled into the great hall for breakfast looking oddly refreshed. Normally she looked like she hadn't slept in months, even when she'd been sleeping all night long.

"Um, nowhere. I had to do some homework stuff with one of the teachers."

"All night long? I don't think so." Ginny raised one eye brow suspiciously.

"I was having trouble understanding a concept."

"Hermione, you're _Hermione_. You never have trouble understanding concepts. Plus, we haven't even had any official classes yet."

"I asked to be assigned work over the Summer." Hermione sat down next to Ginny, looking down at her feet, in a hurry to close the subject. She had never been a very good liar.

Ginny dropped the issue as soon as she saw Harry and Ron walk through the door. They were both laughing and smiling. Ron sat down next to her, putting an arm around her waist.

He always acted like this after he made her please him, or after she'd "learned her lesson". Friendly, and nice like it would never happen ever again. She knew it was mostly her fault when he beat her. She made him do it. Sometimes she didn't do as he said, or disrespected him. At least that's what she told herself. It made her feel better about still being in love with him, when she pretended he wasn't a monster.

Hermione tried very hard not to look towards the Slytherin table. Ron would notice and think she was looking for Draco, and he'd punish her again.

That morning Draco had woken her up before either of them were late. Then he wordlessly led her down the stairs, and showed her the way out of the Slytherin corridors. She wondered how he'd found the tower in the first place. He seemed to know his way there quite well. It was obvious he visited the mysterious tower often, by how thoroughly he knew the route. It was almost like he didn't have to think about it. Either that or he was just incredibly capable with directions.

She didn't pay much attention to the chatter around her. Mostly she thought about everything that had happened to her yesterday.

She nearly got tears in her scrambled eggs when she started thinking about what Ron had forced her to do, but held it in. If she started crying in public people would get suspicious, and if people got suspicious Ron would hurt her again.

Then she thought of Malfoy. He'd caused Ron to punish her. If Malfoy hadn't been looking at her Ron wouldn't have used her like that.

Then she thought about everything that had happened the previous night. He was the first one she'd ever told anything to. He was the first boy that she'd ever spent the night next to, though not in an intimate way.

As breakfast came to an end, everyone got up and started making their way toward their first hour classes. Some people pulled out schedules, but Hermione had already memorized hers.

First, she had Advanced Arithmancy Class. Half the reason she'd chosen Advanced Arithmancy as her elective was because she was positive Ron wouldn't take it, though she did truly enjoyed the subject. It had required a test to get into the class, which she'd taken at the end of her previous year. She had passed with flying colors, of course.

Ron, Harry, Ginny, and all the others separated in different directions leaving her alone. Not very many students could be seen making their way to the classroom, the few that did were mostly Ravenclaws. Advanced Arithmacy was easily the most challenging elective one could take, so most were deterred from the course.

The Advanced Arithmancy classroom was on the first floor, as was the great hall, so Hermione didn't have much trouble finding it.

She wasn't surprised to see that she was the first to arrive inside the class. Hermione was the first in attendance a lot of the time, actually. She had always been very punctual, especially with learning.

"Hello, Ms. Granger." Greeted Professor Vector with a smile. She was a very strict teacher, often times disliked by her students, but Hermione actually liked her quite a bit. Perhaps, it was because she was familiar with her, thanks to being the best Arithmancy student in last year's regular class.

"Good morning, Professor." That was the end of the conversation, but Hermione already felt the burning need for knowledge coursing through her veins.

Despite everything else about her life having changed drastically since the abuse, she was still very much so the brightest witch of her age. That was the one thing she refused to let Ron, Malfoy, or anyone else take from her. She was forever at the head of the class, with her homework in one hand ready to turn in two weeks early, and her quill in the other ready to scribble down even the most tedious of notes.

* * *

Draco Malfoy walked through the door to his Advanced Arithmancy class, with a scowl on his face. He hadn't gotten so much as a wink of sleep last night. His eyes felt heavy and he felt irritated. He'd stayed up all night, watching her sleep. He felt kind of creepy while doing it but he didn't really care. It wasn't like she was going to wake up and see him watching. No one would judge him.

So, in the end, he just watched her until he heard the noises stomping around the halls from a great distance. Then he got up and was about to leave, when he decided to be nice. Instead of leaving her stranded with no idea how to get to the great hall and surrounded all alone by Slytherins that would easily rip her fragile psyche to pieces, he shook her awake and brought her back to the first floor. He figured she could find her way from there. Neither spoke a word the whole time it took him to guide her through the winding passage ways. He supposed neither of them felt the need to.

After that, his morning had gotten more and more annoying.

It was like every little thing he heard was just a variation of nails scratching on a black-board. He was tired and irritable, and really wished he'd stayed up in the tower and slept the day away.

Looking around the classroom he saw no one in any of the desks, except one, at the very front of the classroom. He could only see the back of her head, but he'd recognize that long, bushy hair anywhere.

Walking up behind her, he placed a hand on her shoulder, and waited for her to look up. The professor nodded curtly to him from behind her desk. Hermione got a scared look on her face for a moment, before turning her brown eyes on him.

"Why don't you sit back here with me?" He said gesturing to the back of the room.

He didn't know why but he wanted to have her nearby. He really had nothing he wanted to tell her, but he liked the idea of having her close at hand.

"But I like sitting up front!" She protested.

"But I don't, and I want you to sit next to me." His eyes narrowed.

"Why?" She questioned stubbornly.

So the professor wouldn't hear, and so he wouldn't get a detention for using vulgar vocabulary, he leaned in as close as he could and whispered into her ear.

"Do I need a bloody reason? Do I need to write you a fucking essay on why I want you to sit next to me? Just get the hell up and sit right back down, mud-blood. That's all I'm asking of you. Or is that too complicated an order for you to bloody comprehend?" His voice sounded lethal even to him. He could be scary when he wanted to be. Draco knew he was being unnecessarily harsh but he was in a dreadful mood. He felt like all he wanted to do was kill someone. He wasn't a morning person in the first place, but when he hadn't slept all night… he was like a walking rechargeable time bomb that blew up multiple times throughout the day.

Granger obeyed without any farther argument.

She'd become so broken and weak.

He remembered when she would have cussed him out for insulting her, or saying mud-blood. Maybe, she would have even gotten violent.

Now, she just took whatever he threw at her without any anger whatsoever. He could feel fear radiating from her every time he looked at her. Her every movement screamed terror, pain, and insecurity. She was just so… different than she used to be.

He didn't know why but something about seeing her so utterly broken was mildly disturbing.

_Not that I give a damn about her or anything…_ He thought sullenly to himself.

He told himself he didn't care, but something deep inside him actually wished she'd revert back to her old self, if only he could break her again himself. Now, there wasn't much left of her to torture. He just wanted the old her back, so he could feel a sense of triumph in conquering her. Now, it was just a hollow victory. There was no challenge in it, no pleasure in making her obey him.

He thought it would be simply delightful to have her at his mercy. In reality, this ghost of Hermione Granger, was so fragile she would probably fall to just about anyone. That frustrated him to no end. He almost wished she'd turn around and yell at him, or slap him, or _something._ Anything.

This game was no fun if he was the automatic winner.

That was it. He was going to make her snap. He was going to be so horrid that she'd be forced to regain her fighting spirit.

He would make her back into the real Hermione Granger again one way or another, and once he did… The game was back on, and he would win. Just like he'd always wanted to.

* * *

Hermione sat down obediently in the seat Malfoy indicated. He sat down beside her, and she could see the gears in his mind turning behind his grey eyes.

She'd learn long ago not to speak unless spoken to, so she didn't ask what he was thinking about. She didn't really want to know. It was probably something heinous and despicable that she was better off not knowing. It _was_ Draco Malfoy after all.

Soon enough class began and all the other student filed in. The lesson started but for once Hermione didn't pay much attention.

She was surprised to find herself thinking of Draco, and the things he'd said last night.

He told her that she had no reason to be ashamed for what Ron had made her do.

She wondered why he'd try and comfort her. Knowing him he probably wasn't really trying to console her, and had some ulterior motive behind his words.

It still helped her a little though. She was able to stop crying, and get some sleep. She didn't feel quite as dirty and humiliated as she had before.

Before she'd walked into the great hall she'd erased all visible evidence of the previous night with a quick spell that mended all the tears in her clothing. Despite all the physical indication of her sexual abuse gone, she could still feel his hands all over her body. She could still feel him shoving himself into her mouth, and forcing her to swallow his… she didn't even want to think about it. It made her feel filthy, disgusting, like a whore. He kept calling her that the whole time. Whore, bitch, slut… he yelled out the words reputedly as she was forced to satisfy him.

She was about to cry again. She forced herself to pay attention to the class, but just as she tuned in the ending bell rang. She'd gotten so lost in her atrocious memories that she hadn't even noticed the hours passing by.

Malfoy left without a word. She wondered why he'd even wanted her to sit by him if he wasn't going to say anything. He was such a strange kind of boy, yet something about him deeply frightened her.

Slowly, she trudged out the door and into the flooded halls of students making their way to their next classes. She mindlessly began the journey to the Advanced Transfiguration room forcing herself into a cold state of numbness. It helped her to cope with the pain and degradation she'd become immersed in.

**Sorry for the short chapter. Next ones long.**

**Come on my faithful readers! Show me some love. (Just an FYI this document was saved as "Ron's a dickface" on my computer. Thought some of you might like to know).**


	7. Of Dreams and Nightmares

**Alright, so in answer to some questions: Yes, there is a reason Ron's being a dickface and it's not at all what I think anyone's expecting. Don't criticize me on his character just yet, not until you know what the hell's going on with him (No, it's not some crappy excuse for his abusive behavior). It will all be divulged later, I assure you. For now, hate him all you want, but don't say he's out of character just yet (though he is). Once you see the truth, it's going to blow your head off in shock, but make perfect sense. I have most of this story planned out obviously.**

Draco stared up at the ceiling of his dormitory, knowing he should fall asleep but unable to close his eyes. He was too tired to sleep.

Overall his day had been uneventful, a typical first day. Nothing special. He yelled at a couple of first years during lunch, mostly because their constant jabbering was hurting his ears.

With nothing else to think about, he began to ponder the prospect of Hermione Granger.

He had to admit he was curious. How long had she been in that position? What was going on inside her head? When had all this started and how come no one else seemed to notice?

More than anything he wondered what exactly he'd have to say to her that would piss her off enough that she'd revert back to her former bitchy, annoying, mudblooded, know-it-all, frizzy haired, buck toothed, self.

He wanted to see the fire in her eyes again.

Sure, he was only going to build her so he could break her himself but he still wanted to see the light in them again. Something about seeing her so utterly weak willed and pathetic felt wrong. He'd always dreamed of seeing her like that, but not like this. Not by someone else's doing. She was _his _toy. She'd always been _his _toy. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care but honestly having someone else hurt her pissed him the hell off.

He'd always loved to play with her, insult her, make her cry. Now, that someone else was doing it seeing her cry just served to irritate him. She belonged to him. What part of that sentence did the moron who was hurting her not get?

Now, he had to figure out how to fix her and something told him it wouldn't be easy.

Then, he imagined what it would be like to truly conquer Hermione Granger. Once she was fixed he could finally win his twisted little game. He could break her himself, and come out victorious after all these years of bitter loathing.

He tried to think of a way he could make her snap. Make her angry. Make her fight back.

There had to be something. There just _had _to be.

* * *

Hermione Granger closed her eyes in a futile attempt at sleep. She tossed and turned, and eventually growled in irritation.

She didn't want to fall asleep even though she knew she needed to. She knew the minute she slipped into unconsciousness she'd be plagued by horrendous nightmares. She'd been having them for over a year now. They always fallowed the same general plot.

She'd be in a plain white room, with a florescent light illuminating every corner of the small room. She was horribly scared and chained to one of the walls crying.

Then she'd hear the door creaking open and she'd tremble into the wall and…

She didn't want to think about it anymore. It was bad enough that she saw it when she was sleeping, she didn't need the images when she was awake too.

She sighed furtively.

Something about last night in that tower… she hadn't had any nightmares. Something about being there calmed her down and kept the terror at bay.

Maybe, if she could sleep there again, there would be no nightmare. Maybe, she could really sleep. Maybe, she'd even dream of something pleasant like she hadn't in such a long while.

She wondered if she could manage to find her way there without Malfoy's assistance. Probably not. She'd probably just get hopelessly lost in the Slytherin corridors.

For some reason right then, that didn't matter. All that mattered was a good night's sleep. If Malfoy could get there, then so could she.

Creeping out of her bed very stealthily she glanced around the room, just to make sure that everyone was thoroughly lost in their dreams.

To her relief no one was stirred as she tip-toed through the room. Not bothering to slip into some real cloths she slinked down the stairs in her pajamas, hoping no one would still be in the common room at this hour. Thankfully, it was empty. Hermione's only companion was the roar of the ever glowing fireplace.

She silently slipped through the portrait hole. Looking back at the frame, the portrait lady was peacefully sleeping. Hermione envied her.

She slowly made the descent back to the first floor, looking over her shoulder with caution every ten seconds. It was a miracle she hadn't been caught yet. She clung to the wall as she sneaked through Hogwarts, finding her way to the Slytherin area with relative ease. It was near the potions classroom so she saw it on her way to Snape's quite often. One could easily tell it was the Slytherin part of Hogwarts. It was decked out in green and silver, and statues of snakes dotted the hall.

She inhaled a deep breath. She knew this was stupid, and she was probably only doing it because it was three in the morning and her normally sharp mind was clouded… but she would do anything for just one more night of good sleep. She'd give anything for just one more night left dreaming… Even throwing herself into enemy territory.

She yearned for the previous night to return. So what if Draco Malfoy had been there? So what if she hated him? So what if he scared the shit out of her?

All she knew was that that night had been the first time in a long while that she'd slept peacefully. She wanted that night back so much now.

That tower must have been magical, as it somehow caused her pain to end if only in the world of her dreams and nightmares. Sleeping In that tower had somehow warded off all the red-haired demons that attacked her nightly. She felt desperate to have that protection again.

She never wanted to fall asleep scared to death of her own mental images ever again. Not ever again.

So, she did the only thing she could do. She left the solace and relative security of Gryffindor territory, venturing into the land of her enemies looking for the elusive sense of comfort and safety that ever evaded her grasp.

How ironic to seek peace in the lair of the demonic creatures she so despised. It seemed to be the only way that she could close her eyes without terror though, and she would jump headfirst into a pit of snakes for that.

She just had to make it to that tower again. She just had to. If only just once more… she didn't want to have another nightmare tonight. Not after she'd gotten a taste of what it was like to dream again.


	8. Alone

**Hey everyone. So, I literally fell asleep and got back on and had like 33 reviews, so you guys are AWESOME.**

**This is also the first chapter posted after a 100 reviews, which makes me happy!**

**Thanks for all your support!**

**PS. Sorry this wasn't up sooner, but I've had something wonderfully crazy happen in my life and it's becoming quite the distraction.**

_If I told you a story,_

_Would you even listen,_

_Would you judge me for the memories,_

_I hold so dear,_

_If I told you a story,_

_With no "happily ever after",_

_Would you try and change the ending,_

_Or would your cruel eyes dance with laughter,_

_If I told you a story,_

_Written in my own blood,_

_Would you hold me tightly,_

_Would you whisper softly in my ear,_

_If I told you a story,_

_Would you believe me,_

_Would you blame me,_

_For everything I've done,_

_If I told you my story,_

_Could I really trust you,_

_If I told you my story,_

_Would you tell me yours too?_

Hermione couldn't quite remember where she'd heard that song. It sounded like something that she'd almost forgotten. She didn't know why but as she stepped into the Slytherin's domain the words just came into her mind, and she found herself humming a tune she'd forgotten she'd known in the first place.

Her body was tensing up the farther she got into enemy territory. She didn't like this place. It was cold, dark, and seemed to drain all the emotion she had left right out of her soul. It was disturbing, but strangely relieving.

She found herself wondering if perhaps that's what she'd been longing for all along. Just to feel numb. If she couldn't be happy, then at least she didn't have to feel pain.

Hermione just kept walking, not exactly sure about where she was going. She vaguely hoped she wouldn't get lost, but she wanted that peaceful sleep so bad that she didn't really care.

* * *

Draco just couldn't get to sleep.

_Damn that mudblood!_

He thought broodingly. He couldn't seem to get her off his mind. He was dead tired, and couldn't even get to sleep because his brain wouldn't shut up.

With a frustrated sigh, he pulled himself off the bed. What was the point of being here if he wasn't going to fall asleep? Absolutely nothing.

He decided to get up, and go to the tower. He always felt the most at peace there, and seemed to think up his best ideas when he sat there at that empty room on top of the world.

He didn't bother trying to be quiet. All his roommates slept like logs and even if they did wake up they wouldn't ask him where he was going. He was_ Draco Malfoy._ No one would dare question his actions.

He quickly slipped a robe on over his pale, exposed, chest. He swiftly walked out the door, skulking down the hall. He looked down at his feet. He didn't normally walk with his head held low, seeing it as a sign of insecurity and incompetence. Tonight though, in the dead of night, he let his eyes dip to the floor.

It was times like these when he honestly felt a little scared of himself.

He found moments like these calming and peaceful, but at the same time being alone with only his own mind for company frightened him. That's why most of the time when he was without his crowd of distracting followers, he tried very hard to relax, because if he didn't he'd just start thinking too hard about his life.

He loved to be at peace. He loved silence. He hated to think about himself. He hated being all alone.

In truth Draco Malfoy was _always_ all alone in at least one sense. It was lonely at the top. He thought he was so superior to everyone else that he'd isolated himself from them. They weren't worth his time, effort, or thought. They were just insects on his windshield.

Any of the relationships he had with others, even the people he appeared to be closest with, were nothing but clever façade. He faked friendships, emotions, affections with only the goal of personal gain in mind. He rarely found any pleasure in any kind of social life, not that he'd ever really attempted to have one. He enjoyed being the center of attention, but that mostly just because he loved to have his ego stroked. It was a cold day in hell when he actually found any solace in day to day interaction with his peers.

All in all he was more or less just a puppet that changed controllers on a near constant basis. Sometimes it was his father, sometimes Bellatrix, sometimes the Dark Lord. He was just a tool for them to act through.

He supposed that's why he liked controlling people and causing them torment. It made him feel powerful, like for once in his life he was the one pulling the strings to the marionette. It was one of the few things that gave him any pleasure, to cause others suffering. Sometimes he felt disgusted with himself for being so sadistic, but most of the time he just tried to avoid thinking about who he was. It made things easier if he just stayed apathetic.

Despite how monstrous it was to enjoy such sick, twisted, things… it made him feel alive and human. He yearned all day and all night every day of his life just to feel something. He'd long ago shut down his capabilities for love, kindness, compassion, trust… so he felt hatred, cruelty, indifference, and paranoia with all the passion of a couple hundred burning suns. It was all the emotion he had left in his heartless world, and he certainly utilized it to the fullest extent that he could.

Once he came to Hogwarts he'd found so many people to torture, so many things to hate, so many nightmares to cause… it was like a wonderland. He'd just wanted to feel something, anything, and now he had the chance.

With his upbringing it was natural for him to despise mudbloods, natural for him to despise Gryffindor, natural for him to despise Harry Potter. He used all these things for outlets to express all his trapped emotions upon, though most of the time these emotions came out in rather nasty ways.

When no one was around he thought about who he was and how he'd gotten there. He knew who he was on the outside without any difficulty. He was a cold, cruel, arrogant, bastard. That was all there was to his outside persona.

On the inside though… he had no clue what was there. That was one of the things that scared him the most when he thought about himself. He had not the slightest idea what it really meant to be Draco Malfoy on a deeper level than deatheater, pureblood, and reigning sadist. He'd long ago lost track of himself, giving way to the person he showed all others.

He was scared that perhaps the inside was just a hollow spot where the real him used to be.

He scowled and shook his head. It didn't even really matter. If there was nothing left, so be it. It wasn't like it would have stayed alive for long anyway.

The inner him was like a flame representing warmth and humanity. It couldn't exist once doused with the freezing cold water that was everywhere in his world. Goodness and benevolence couldn't live in his heart, when his life was like this.

He sighed and just kept walking down the hall. He really was at his most vulnerable at times like these. He was always left raw, bleeding, but with an even harder shell at the end of these little sessions.

* * *

Hermione walked down the hall with no idea where in the world she was going. With every passing moment she was getting more and more hopelessly lost in the cobra's den. She'd realized long ago that she should turn around but by that point she was too far into the maze to find her way out again. She knew she should have been paying more attention to where she was going.

Even if she had been, she doubted she'd be able to find her way back. This whole place was like one endless labyrinth. She was surprised that even the Slytherins who actually lived there could manage to navigate it. She supposed it was probably more memorization than actual skill, but it would still be quite a challenge.

She'd been walking for about twenty minutes without seeing any sign of that tower. She wasn't so much frustrated as she was disappointed with herself. She'd been such an idiot thinking that she could do this. It was around three in the morning, she was tired, lost with no feasible end in sight, and to top it all off she was in enemy territory.

Her feet were getting sore, and she just wanted to lay down and die. She was the brightest witch of her age and she couldn't even figure out a maze? A muggle child with a kids menu and some crayons could perform such a simple task.

With a sigh she slumped against the nearby wall allowing herself to collapse at the base of it. She might as well just wait for someone to catch her. There was no real point in just wandering around and getting herself even more helplessly lead astray.

"Is this becoming a habit for you?" She heard a voice say from directly in front of her. Her eyes snapped up to meet the cold gray eyes of Draco Malfoy. How did he always do that? Sneak up on her?

His blonde hair was a disheveled mess, his eyes were ever so slightly bloodshot, and his robe was crumpled and creased. He looked a little more human than he normally did, and with that came a certain vulnerability. Hermione wasn't quite sure what it was but she knew it was definitely there. She could sense it in his presence. It felt unstable, weak, and a not just a little bitter.

"You do realize you've come to the same exact spot for no apparent reason for the second time in two days, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is the exact same place I found you yesterday, mudblood."

"Oh."

There was nothing else she really had to say. He looked down at her almost as though he expected her to say more.

To her surprise he lowered himself to the floor and sat beside her so close their knees were touching.

"Why are you here, mudblood?" He asked sounding strangely exhausted. She felt like the "mudblood" part was more or less just going through the motions. There was none of his normal malice, or arrogance in his voice.

"I couldn't sleep. I wanted to find that tower again."

She didn't attempt to deny it. She couldn't see a reason to.

"Why?"

She decided just to be honest.

"When I was there I didn't have any nightmares."

"Do you normally have nightmares?"

"Every night."

She didn't see any point in lying to him. She thought perhaps it was because he already knew about Ron. If he already knew the worst of it why bother trying to hide anything else?

"What are they about?"

"Why do you even care?"

"I don't. It's just three in the morning, I can barely hear myself speak, and I have nothing better to do."

"They're about Ron."

She chose not to elaborate. She didn't really want to. She'd just start crying.

He had no response. Instead he just got up, and grabbed her by her elbow. He yanked her to her feet before running off into the darkness.

"Where are we going?"

"The tower."

Draco Malfoy didn't think about it. He just took hold of the girl and started running. He was going there anyway, why not take her along? It was better than going alone.

She seemed pretty alone herself. Maybe, if only for tonight, they could be alone together.

He didn't want to be alone right now. He didn't know why, he just didn't want to be.

Sure, in the morning he'd go right back to hating her and hurting her and all that but for now he didn't give a damn. He just wanted someone. Anyone. Even Hermione Granger.

**Show me some love if you have the time!**

**I'm sure someone's going to ask this so I'm just going to say it beforehand. The song at the beginning isn't a real song, I made it up. I actually more or less just wrote a quick poem and had Hermione think of it as a song, so that's what's going on with that.**

**(Again, I apologize for the lateness of this chapter.)**


	9. Pathetic

Draco Malfoy sat wordlessly next to Hermione Granger in the same room they'd spent all of last night in. Having her for company wasn't supplying the kind of companionship he had hoped for. He shook his head at his own stupidity.

The silence between them was heavy, awkward , and made him feel deeply out of place. In a way he felt even more alone then he had before. It was frustrating. Perhaps, he had the kind of disposition that made it hard to really coexist with anyone, even for just a night. Maybe, it was all his fault. Or much more likely Granger was to blame for this discomforting silence. That was probably it. It was all her fault. It was always her fault.

The silence drove Draco crazy. He had brought her here to escape silence, and the thoughts that came with it. How naïve he was to believe, even for a moment that Granger's company could give him some kind of comfort. It was _Granger _after all, the most loathsome, pathetic, beaver-toothed, mud-blood to ever exist in the history of the wizarding world.

Anger surged through him. Anger at Hermione Granger for being so very useless, unable to even provide for good company. A part of Draco knew that being angry with her was entirely unreasonable. It wasn't like she had any idea how Draco felt, or any magic that could soothe him. His feelings of loneliness and disturbia were none of her concern.

But he didn't care.

He turned to her and saw her looking directly at him with wide, brown eyes.

"What are you looking at, mud-blood?" He found himself snapping at her.

"You." Granger answered simply.

"Well stop it. It's creepy, you stupid mud-blood."

"…Is something wrong, Malfoy?"

"NO!" Draco exclaimed, his voice coming out more as a hiss then anything else.

"Okay, then…" Granger continued to stare at him looking bewildered and a little fearful.

"I SAID STOP LOOKING AT ME!"

Granger's head dipped down.

"What's wrong with you? DON'T JUST LOOK DOWN!" Fire raged behind his eyes. He found himself pissed off with her automatic obedience. For the uptenth time since his situation with her had started, he was angered by her lack of spirit. She was supposed to be broken by _him, _god damnit. Not anyone else.

"Um… sorry?"

"DON'T SAY YOU'RE SORRY!"

"Um… what…do… you… want… me… to say?" She stuttered as she wrapped her arms around her knees, shrinking into the wall.

"JUST SHOW SOME BACK BONE DAMNIT! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, GRANGER? WHAT HAPPENED? YOU ARE PATHETIC. PATHETIC. YOU HEARD ME! P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C."

"I know… I'm sorry…"

"HOW MANY TIMES ARE YOU GOING TO APOLIGIZE? DON'T BE SORRY! BE PISSED! I JUST CALLED YOU PATHETIC, GRANGER! DOESN'T IT JUST MAKE YOU WANT TO HIT ME?"

"No… Malfoy, please stop, you're scaring me…" Hermione looked up again, terror in her eyes. She flinched at ever word.

"YOU SAY THAT LIKE YOU THINK I CARE IF YOU'RE SCARED! DON'T BE AFRAID OF ME! BE MAD AT ME! SLAP ME! INSULT ME! KICK ME IN THE BALLS FOR ALL I CARE!"

Hermione just looked at him in befuddlement.

"YOU PATHETIC, MUD-BLOODED, SPINELESS, COWARDLY, WEAK, LITTLE BITCH! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, YOU STUPID COW?"

Malfoy took a deep breath, inhaling loudly after his loud ranting. He was about to start again when he looked down and saw tears streaking Granger's cheeks. She shook slightly. She was terrified.

He sighed.

"Granger, I'm just trying to get it through your thick skull: Wake up, get your back-bone back, because I've had it with your weak-willed bull shit. I've only been around you two days and already you annoy the bloody hell out of me. More so than normal."

Hermione just blinked wordlessly at him tears still clinging to her eyes.

"Listen. It's no fun having you as my "slave" if you don't have any fighting spirit left. It makes me feel like I haven't even won this game we play. So get your head out of your ass and fight, for the love of Merlin."

"I'm sorry. But I can't do that. I'm not the kind of person anymore."

With that Hermione got up off the floor, and just walked out the door without saying goodbye.

"Wait!" Draco shouted, "I SAID WAIT, MUD-BLOOD!"

She didn't wait.

_She'll just get lost again… stupid girl._

He made no move to follow her, but some small part of him felt good to see her not listen to him. Maybe, he got through to her. Just a little.

He smirked.

Perhaps, the game could resume sooner than he expected.

**Sorry for the year long wait. I kind of had an episode. **


	10. Anger

Hermione ran down the stairs with tears pricking in her eyes. To her surprise she found they weren't tears of sadness, as were her usual waterworks, but tears of anger. There were no other words to describe it except pissed beyond belief. It took a little time to kick in since she'd left the room, but within a few steps it caught up to her.

How dare Malfoy say those things about her. Such cruel, humiliating things. What business did he have talking down to her like that? It wasn't any of his concern how she chose to behave! Like he knew what went through her head. It wasn't like her change in demeanor had happened overnight or by choice. It was something that had been beaten into her again and again, until it became a way of life. But what would Malfoy know about that? He'd never experienced hardship in his prissy little life. Hermione doubted he'd ever had anyone strike him, save for her in third year. He had no right to call her pathetic when he had no idea what her life was like, what _Ron _was like.

_Try having someone beat the hell out of you on a daily basis, demean you, and then violate you in unspeakable ways day in and day out, and we'll see how high you can hold your head, Malfoy! _Hermione silently thought to herself, broodingly.

Malfoy yelled those things at her like she didn't already know that she was pathetic. It hurt to have someone else recognize it… it really did. His words tore at what was left of her _pathetic_ little heart, but triggered a feeling deep inside her that hadn't been felt in years: rage. That burning passionate anger, that consumed her as she stomped away. She had half a mind to go back and give him a piece of her mind. She actually turned around and started walking upstairs when a little voice in the back of her mind stopped her.

_Don't… you'll only make Malfoy angry… and then he'll hurt you just like Ron. _

Hermione cursed herself for being afraid. She wanted so badly to slap herself, to punish that fearful being at the core of her heart. She yearned to walk up the stairs and punch Malfoy, the no good ferret, square in the nose. She longed to fight, not just Malfoy, but Ron. She felt the fervent desire to battle, to scream, to give all that hurt her a sip or two of their own disgusting medicine.

_Stop this nonsense. You'll only get hurt, Hermione… you don't want to make anyone angry. You don't want to be beaten again._

There were those annoying fearful thoughts again. Hermione decided to ignore them. She let anger push out the fear, giving way to the courage that comes with blinding rage. She spun her body around and began to stomp heavily up the flight of stairs, back to Malfoy, ready to get revenge for all the cruel indignities she'd suffered over the years. All of them.

* * *

Draco sighed. He couldn't risk the mud-blood getting caught, wandering aimlessly about with no idea how to get back to the Gryffindor tower. Knowing her, she'd probably somehow reveal to administration that he spent so much time out of bed late at night, and worse yet where he spent them. Draco refused to have his only place of refuge ruined because of that stupid girl. He knew that if she left the tower she'd get lost, and if she got lost the chances of her getting caught were almost definite.

With a frustrated sigh, Draco arose from his position on the floor, and slowly opened up the hatch leading downstairs. Without hesitation he climbed down the ladder, and hopped onto the stairs without skipping a beat. He moved without hurry. Even if Granger made it out of the tower before he found her, she wouldn't be able to get very far, considering she had no idea where she was going.

He had been expecting to find her at the end of a tedious journey confused and hopelessly lost somewhere outside the Slytherin dormitory, just like he'd found her several other times before. He looked back at the door and ladder, noticing he'd forgotten to reseal it. He turned around and flicked his wand, beckoning the ladder to fold up and the door to snap shut, as usual. He was so focused in silently performing the simple spell that he didn't notice the loud footsteps quickly approaching.

He didn't notice when Hermione Granger stood right behind him with rage in her eyes. He didn't notice much of anything until he felt nimble fingers clinch into his shoulder, pull back with all the strength of a lioness and force him to face his assailant.

Brown eyes met gray, and burning rage met stagnant apathy. Draco didn't make any expression whatsoever, didn't utter a sound, just stared back into brown orbs of anger, and concealed pain.

He showed absolutely no reaction until Granger dragged the reaction right out of him.

_Slap!_

The noise resonated through the tower, like the cracking of a whip. Granger's hand still hovered in the air inches away from Draco's bright red, stinging cheek. Without skipping a beat she hit him again. And again. And again. Draco was absolutely shocked, so much so that he made no move to stop her until the sixth or seventh slap. Finally, when he regained his senses, he grabbed the mud-blood's wrist in midair, in a vice grip. She just raised the other hand, curling it into a fist and punching the other cheek. He used one hand on each of hers, refusing to take this abuse any longer.

"What in the name of bloody hell are you doing?" He found himself shouting.

"I AM NOT PATHETIC!"

"That doesn't really answer my question you know! What the hell is wrong with you? You don't just walk around hitting innocent bystanders, you stupid bitch!"

"Innocent bystander? AS IF YOU CRUEL, ARROGANT, SON OF A BITCH!" As Granger yelled her fists began flying about again, enraged. Draco lost his hold and one blow landed directly in his eye. He took her wrists once more squeezing them tight as hand-cuffs.

"OH DON'T EVEN START WITH ME, GRANGER! STRIKE ME ONE MORE TIME AND I JUST MIGHT STRIKE BACK!"

"LIKE I CARE! YOU THINK I CAN'T TAKE A HIT? I TAKE THEM EVERY DAMN DAY! WHAT'S ONE MORE? NOTHING!"

"I KNOW YOU CAN TAKE A PUNCH OR ELSE YOU WOULDN'T BE ALIVE WOULD YOU, MUDBLOOD? YOU'RE SO PATHETIC THAT YOU DON'T EVEN FIGHT BACK WHEN SOMEONE HITS YOU! LEARNING TO TAKE A HIT IS WHAT'S KEPT YOU AROUND THUS FAR! YOU'RE SUCH A WEAK, USELESS, STUPID GIRL THAT YOU CAN'T DEFEND YOURSELF!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, MALFOY!"

"MAKE ME!"

"GLADLY!"

Granger struggled against Draco's hold, fighting to land a blow. He just smirked at the mudblood. This was one fight he wasn't about to lose. After a full seven minutes of battling against his iron grip, she was out of breath and tired. Yet, she still continued to resist her inevitable loss of this battle.

Draco laughed.

"What's the point, Granger? I'm bigger than you. I'm stronger than you. I'll win. You know I will."

"SHUT UP!" Draco noticed a quiver in her voice.

"Listen to me, mudblood. You are weak, you are pathetic, cowardly, and you're not even mad at _me_ and you know it. You're mad at your so called 'boyfriend' for being an asshole. You're only taking it out on me, because you think you have a chance against me. You're pissed, and you really want to fight with _him._ You want him to suffer the way you suffer. But you come after me instead, because you know if you go after him he'll just beat the living shit out of you. You're a coward. You know you are. You're just trying to slap me around because I called it to your attention, you weak, sniveling, whelp of a witch."

Draco's eyes danced with malicious intent. He was possibly as pissed off as Granger obviously was. He wanted his words to sting. He wanted the filthy mudblood to feel pain for having hurt him. He was above physically torturing her, but emotionally worked just as well. Maybe, better.

He smiled that evil, signature Malfoy family grin.

Granger's bushy brown hair covered her eyes, and shadowed most of her face as she let her head drop to the ground. Suddenly all the former trashing of her arms ceased, and her hands fell limp, almost as though she was numb past her elbows.

Draco continued to smile spitefully.

"You are a useless human being. You no longer really serve a purpose being alive do you? Who are you helping? What good are you doing for this planet anymore? Nothing. You just take up space."

The stupid mudblood didn't even look up. Draco laughed out loud at his pitifully weak advisory.

"Not so tough now are you, Granger?"

Suddenly, her eyes snapped up to meet his malicious gray eyes. Draco's smile dropped when he discovered her tawny irises to be filled with immeasurable pain. A kind of agony that he'd never seen before. A raw, hysterical, disturbing, endless kind of misery, that shocked him. It was a misery filled with fear, confusion, revulsion, shame, anger, but most of all… simply suffering. It reminded Draco of a dying animal.

Big, wet tears rolled down her red cheeks, making them glisten. Her lips contorted into a grimace that made Draco wonder if she even knew how to smile anymore. Granger began to sob, her chest convulsing, and snot oozing from her nose.

"You're right. You're right about everything, Malfoy." Her voice trembled as much as her body. Without another word she pulled out of Draco's grip and collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Draco felt something strange, a very small ache, from deep inside of him as he looked down and Hermione Granger. With every passing second the ache grew larger until it was a steady, excruciating throb that resonated throughout his icy heart.

Draco was a death-eater. He'd seen a great many innocent men, women, and children die gruesome deaths. After a while watching others fall to agony didn't affect him at all. It was just a part of daily life. Yet, for some reason Hermione Granger, a filthy mudblood, in such tremendous pain was more powerful than anything he'd witnessed before. He felt something akin to guilt, with a touch of sympathy, stir deep inside him.

Without willing himself to do so, he knelt down, and gently took hold of her wrist from the step above her.

Her face snapped up, and she lay splayed out before him looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Draco whispered , trying to keep his voice low and soft.

She said nothing.

"It's going to be okay… You're going to be okay, Granger. Stop crying. Go back upstairs."

_Why am I being nice to her? She's Granger for crying out loud! I HATE HER!_

When she didn't respond, Draco just got up and walked calmly back up the stairs, calling over his shoulder: "I won't make you follow, mudblood. But I'll be up here if you want. Not that I care or anything."

**Hi everybody! So I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. Anyway, please if you like this: REVIEW! DON'T BE A SILENT READER! Be proactive. I love all you guys!**

**-ICU**


	11. Goodnight

Hermione laid on the steps for another few minutes, silently suffering. It was too late for her to go back to the Gryffindor tower, if she tried she had no doubt that Filch would catch her. She had no desire to go back upstairs either, at least not with _him _there. Hermione felt incredibly hurt and she couldn't quite figure out why. Malfoy hadn't even put his hands on her, but somehow his words tore at her more than a fist cold. His insults had been so very lethal. It was like he had known exactly the right points to hit.

Malfoy had a tongue as sharp as a blade. Even when he wasn't yelling somehow his words came across as forcefully as a punch to the face. Hermione's heart felt like it was crying, every ounce of blood in her body simply her heart's crimson tears. Hermione wondered if Malfoy had a way with words, or just a way with cruelty. Maybe, it was both.

Hermione slowly got up, shaking a little. All traces of her former rage and the courage that came with it, gone. She stood, vulnerable as a child, and looked up the winding staircase. Draco had left the door hatch open, with the rope ladder still hanging down. Hermione then looked down the staircase, knowing that if she walked down it long enough eventually she'd find the exit. She gave a sad sigh, debating inwardly which path to take.

She tried to choose the lesser among the two great evils she faced. On one hand she could go downstairs, get helplessly lost, and get caught by Filch, or worse she wouldn't be found and she'd be helplessly lost until morning. Maybe, even later.

On the other hand she could spend the night with Malfoy again. To the best of her knowledge he was just a downright wicked person, who could hurt in ways even Ron couldn't. Then again, he'd just been sort of not entirely evil for a few seconds there.

_What could Malfoy do to me that hasn't been done already? _Hermione thought to herself.

She began to slowly walk up the stairs, still unsure of her decision.

She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about Malfoy was deeply frightening. He didn't even have to do, or even say anything, to fill Hermione with anxiety and dread. Perhaps, it was the way he carried himself, or the tenor of his voice, or the soullessness of his grey eyes. Perhaps, Hermione would never figure it out.

* * *

Draco sat to the side of the circular room, wondering what had come over him.

First he _finally _got Granger to show a little bit of spirit, like he'd been wanting. Then without taking any time to think about what he was doing he brutally broke her down again, bringing her all the way back to square one. Then, for some unknown reason, he tried to comfort her. Every action after the momentary return of the mudblood's fire had been a total disaster.

Draco sighed and put his face in his palm. He certainly had his father's temper.

Any regret he felt for what he'd done was, of course, for entirely selfish reasons. He still wanted to conquer her, wanted to win this game. It was no fun if he didn't have a strong willed victim to play against.

As for trying to comfort her… well, that was just confusing.

Draco had no idea what had possessed him to do that. He'd seen plenty of people cry, and never once had he felt any desire to make any attempt to console them in the slightest. Actually, come to think of it, Draco couldn't remember feeling the desire to console Granger either. It just happened.

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone clambering up the rope ladder. Bushy brown hair was the first thing Draco saw as Granger's head came through the hatch, and the rest of her body quickly followed.

He noticed the way she shook when she stood, staring at him. It reminded him of a new born fawn, scared of the world, unsure on its own legs. The fear in her eyes was intense and yet hidden behind a soft mist of sadness. Draco had never seen eyes that looked more alive, nor had he ever seen eyes that looked more dead.

Granger walked, unsteadily over to him, collapsing beside him like she abruptly lost all her will.

"Hey, mudblood."

"Hi." Granger responded blankly, uncaringly.

Draco couldn't help noticing the tears that still hung, motionless on her cheeks.

After what seemed like years of silence Draco spoke with a sigh.

"Don't cry."

"Why not?"

"Just don't. It's just so weak. It annoys me."

Granger looked at him with all the shame and indignation of a dying dog.

"But I _am_ weak, Malfoy."

"You're only weak if you let yourself be weak, stupid mudblood." Draco responded in a mumble.

Granger wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them to her chest. Her long brown hair covered her face from Draco's line of sight.

"Goodnight, Malfoy." Granger turned away from him and laid out on the cold, hard floor without another word.

"Goodnight, mudblood." Draco replied. He chose not to splay out like her, preferring to stare into space. He was surprised by how quickly Granger was able to fall asleep on the ground beside him.

He hadn't slept properly since before the train ride to Hogwarts. He really should be trying to get some much needed sleep himself. He splayed himself out, and gazed up at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes.**  
**

**Hi there,**

**You all make me so happy! Thanks for all the support. It means a lot.**

**~ICU**


	12. Spider

Hermione awoke in a sleepy haze of warmth. A yawn escaped from her supple, half-awake form as she arched her back and blinked the sleep from her eyes. She rolled over slightly, and curled up into the comfort that seemed to encompass her aching body. She welcomed it, too dazed to bother trying to figure out its source. It was enough just to feel safe and sound, with all the terror of her life held in by the enigmatic warmth.

Her eyes opened slowly, flickering under the weight of dreams. She took a look at the cold, empty room and quickly rolled her head back into the heat source, eyes closed and lips pout with desire for just a few more moments of peace. As the cognitive gears in her mind shook off the cobwebs of sleep and whirred into action, thoughts began to dance in her mind. The forefront of these thoughts was the source of comfort and warmth which enveloped her. With consciousness came the burden of curiosity. Her eyes creaked open once more, only to be blinded by alabaster skin. Her eyes snapped open and took in the full detail of the horrifying picture before her. Her face was planted in the crook of a pale faced, blond haired, devil's neck. She immediately threw herself back, only to be caught by his stony arms, locked in place as he slept. They draped around her shoulder, snared in her hair like pale white vines. Hermione squealed and tried harder to pull away, but his hand was caught in her curls, and refused to break free.

"Um… Malfoy?" Hermione whispered reluctantly. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to him, but it seemed like it was either that, or a hair cutting spell. Malfoy was sleeping heavy, like a log. He was snoring gently, and a thin line of drool dripped from his lips.

"Malfoy?" Hermione tried once again.

"Hmm…?" A still sleeping Malfoy responded from somewhere deep within the recesses of his dreaming mind.

"Malfoy! Wake up!"

"Huh…?" Malfoy's eyes fluttered slightly but he was still far from conscious.

"MALFOY!" Hermione debated for a moment before finally shouting. She wasn't about to let this idiot hold her hostage while he got his beauty rest.

"Five more minutes…" Malfoy groaned, tossing to the side, dragging her with him by the tendrils of her hair. Hermione gritted her teeth together. She wasn't about to cry out for something so trivial.

"For the love of Merlin…" Hermione muttered to herself once he had settled again, with his bony fingers still wrapped up in her famous mane.

Hermione furrowed her brow in thought, trying to peer through the situation and straight to the solution. She remembered something her mom had done to her when she was little and didn't want to wake up. She would put her fingers on Hermione's stomach and one at a time have the fingers creep up to her torso, like an insect. Then she would shout 'SPIDER!' at the top of her lungs.

Hermione sighed in frustration while chuckling silently at the memory.

_Anything's worth a shot…_

With one hand she touched Malfoy's stomach, and began to slowly creep it across his body. She noticed his eyes twitching, but they still refused to open. Once her hand was right at his neck she stopped, just moving her fingers lightly in place.

"SPIDER!" She yelled at the top of her lungs.

Malfoy's eyes snapped open and his head swiveled all around trying to locate the apparent arachnid. "WHAT? SPIDER? WHERE?" he roared. He actually seemed a bit afraid, clenching his arms close to his body (and dragging Hermione to his chest in the process/

After a few seconds Malfoy came into full awareness and tried to regain his stoic composure. His expression contorted into one of disgust.

"What the hell are you doing, mudblood? Get off of me."

Hermione untangled herself immediately, feeling a tinge of fear slip back in.

Malfoy got up and dusted his robe off disdainfully with his hand. "Now I stink of mudblood. Worst wakeup call I've ever had… Next time you stay on your side of the room, and I'll stay on mine, got it?" Malfoy muttered, glaring at Hermione. Hermione quirked her eyebrow at the idea of 'next time', but didn't pursue the idea further. Suddenly, fear hit her again and it hit hard. She didn't like seeing Malfoy angry anymore than she liked seeing Ron angry. She wished she'd just let him sleep. She'd forgotten how mean he could be when he was awake. Something about his waking form ensnared her in a web of fear, even when he wasn't being overtly aggressive He could just act moderately annoyed and it sent shivers down her spine. Even when he wasn't saying or doing anything, he just emitted a threatening feeling. Something that told the people around him it would be in their best interest to stay on their toes. He was like a snake. He didn't even have to do anything to appear sinister and dangerous.

* * *

Draco walked down the stairs with Granger trailing a little bit behind him. He stifled a yawn. He was still sleepy. He supposed that was to be expected considering he hadn't actually _gone _to sleep in several days. He was a bit of an insomniac.

He felt a little bit like he needed a good, long shower. He felt like his whole body was sticky with Granger's mudblood essence. It disgusted him. It had been drilled in him since he was just a little boy, not to associate with muggles, or those that shared their filthy blood. He'd been taught that they were loathsome, disease ridden creatures. Of course, his teachings were right. He had no doubt about that.

He glanced back at the mudblood in question, and debated rather or not to strike up a conversation. The silence between them was kind of awkward. It seemed like around him she was either crying or silent.

He decided not to bother. It wasn't like he had anything he wanted to say. In fact if he could have it his way, he would never talk to mudbloods at all. Especially that know it all, frizzy haired, buck toothed Granger.

He glanced back and couldn't help but notice that she wasn't quite as frizzy haired or buck toothed as she'd seemed in first year. Still repulsive but not _as _repulsive. Not that Draco cared about that. It was just an observation.

Finally, they arrived at the base of the tower. Draco opened the door, not bothering to check to see if Granger was still following or not.

He hardly had to look where he was going. It was as easy as breathing. He knew the directions to the great hall like the back of his hand. First a left, then a right, straight, a little diagonal, up two stair cases, turn left, turn left again, keep going straight and in no time you're right there in front of the Great Hall. It's doors were wide open still. Draco peaked his head inside and took a step back when he realized there was absolutely no one in there. Just a bunch of empty plates and cleaning house elves.

Granger looked at him with wide eyes.

"_Shit." _Malfoy hissed.

"We're late." Granger spoke, looking distressed to say the least.

"Alright… It's still only a few days into the school year. We'll just tell the teachers that we got lost." Draco swept his hand through his blond hair as he came up with the deception.

"You don't understand… I've never been late before…"

"There's a first time for everything, mudblood."

"Yes… but… I have Ron in my first hour today!"

"So?"

"He'll know something's up! I'm _never _late. He'll be suspicious. He'll hurt me…" Granger talked very fast, anxiously shifting from foot to foot. At the end of her statement she gave a barely there whimper.

"Don't worry about it." Draco shrugged.

"How?" Granger's eyes shone with fear and a dim pain. Like the memory of Ron beaming through, as she tried to hold it back.

"It's not like you've done anything wrong. You were just late. No big deal."

"You don't understand."

"Grow a back bone, mudblood. Nobody, not even him, can really throw the book at you just because you're a few minutes late."

"Most of the time he doesn't even need any excuse at all, Malfoy." Granger sighed.

"Well, you have to go to class sometime. The milk's already spilt. So, face facts. He already knows you're late, so no matter what you do now you're going to get hit. Now, you just have to live with it. There's nothing you can do but get your ass to class." Draco respond, intentionally trying to sound apathetic.

The mudblood just sighed once more, sadness and apprehension in her eyes.

_She'll be fine, _Draco thought to himself. A small part of him doubted it even as he thought the words.

_She'll be fine… Right?_

* * *

Hermione walked into her Potion's class looking down at her feet in anxiety and shame. Never before had she been late to a class, and she felt like she was letting herself down. She could feel Ron's eyes on her, and it made her nervous. Her heart was pumping double over time, panicking inside her chest, but on the outside she kept her composure, making a conscious attempt to appear normal and not fall to her knees. Every eye in the room was on her, but one pair of shocking emerald irises in the crowd held her ensnared in their hypnotic gaze. They saw through her guise of calm like her weak performance was made of gauze. It was almost as though he could see every frantic pump of her heart, hear every rabid tick of her inner clock.

She was glad her robe was long. It hid the trembling of her jello-knees as she walked.

"Ah, Ms. Granger. Glad to see you've decided to grace us with your presence this fine morning," Professor Snape paused mid-lecture, greeting Hermione with a hiss.

"I'm sorry sir, I was-"

"I don't care, Ms. Granger. Take your seat." Snape glared at her maliciously.

Without a word Hermione took her usual seat beside Ron. On the other side of the table sat Ginny, and Neville both with eyes transfixed on her.

"As I was saying…" Snape continued with his lecture on beetle eyes versus unicorn hair. Hermione hardly paid any attention.

With a nod of his chin Ron silently said: _You're going to get it as soon as we're out of here. Where the hell have you been?_

"Hi, Hermione. Where were you? We missed you at breakfast." Neville smiled kindly at her as he whispered.

"Yes, Hermione, where were you?" Ron inquired with a deceptive smile. Hermione knew nobody else caught the suspicion and anger in his eyes, but Hermione always noticed it even when no one else did. It seemed like that was just a piece of the beautiful and terrible world she lived in.

"I was just running a little behind getting ready is all."

"Well, that's a blatant lie. You weren't in the girl's dorm when I woke up. Where have you been these last couple of days Hermione?" Ginny's gentle and friendly voice asked, showing no suspicion, just mild curiosity.

"Fine… you caught me…" Hermione was never a very good liar, but desperate times called for desperate measures, "You see… over the summer I developed a bit of a medical problem."

Ron cocked one eyebrow, detecting the false note in her voice. Neville gulped heavily, his eyes wide in concern. Ginny just tilted her head to the side looking almost as skeptical as Ron.

"What kind of _medical problem?_" Ginny inquired cynically.

"Well, um… Sleepwalking." Hermione's voice took on a higher pitch as her heart fluttered.

"…So you haven't been in bed the last two nights, due to… sleepwalking?" Ginny's voices oozed with doubt.

Ron flashed Hermione a look. A deep, surprised, distrustful, angry look. He hadn't known she'd been away at night. Not last night, or any other night. He looked, for lack of a better description, suspicious and pissed off. To all others he looked so deeply composed, perhaps a little curious but Hermione knew better. Hermione could perceive easily the malice that other's could not.

Hermione turned back to Ginny, trying desperately to keep the obviousness of her lie out of her voice.

"Yes. Sleepwalking. The last two nights, I've gotten up in the middle of the night, and sleep-walked all around Hogwarts! Crazy, huh? I started doing it this summer at my house and you see… I just haven't quite kicked the habit."

"…If you say so…"Ron wasn't the only person in the Weasly family capable of sending looks. The look Ginny gave Hermione clearly read: _Oh don't think you're off the hook yet, my friend! _

Neville just shrugged his shoulders, as if to say: _I'm just going to stay out of this one._

And Ron simply gave her a daring smirk and a quirk of his ginger eyebrow. Underneath the table he cracked his knuckles in anticipation and Hermione held back a flinch and put up a glaringly fake smile.

* * *

Draco walked into his charms class like he owned the place. It wasn't the first time he'd been late, unlike the stupid mudblood. Hell, he'd been late just yesterday to every one of his classes.

Professor Flitwick wasn't a very severe teacher. He seemed vaguely amused by Draco's lateness and just shook his head with a smile. "Glad to see you finally arrive, Mr. Malfoy. I was beginning to wonder if I should send out a search party," Flitwick chuckled good-naturedly, "As you can see I've rearranged the seating chart. Take your place next to Mr. Potter and open your text book to Page 4912."

Draco's eyes grew wide with shock. There was no way in hell he was going to sit next to the boy who was obnoxious enough to live.

_Screw the damn seating chart!_

From the moderately disgusted look on Potter's face he wasn't too happy about the seating arrangement either. Scanning the room, Draco noticed a seat at the back of the class, next to Pansy Parkinson. He chose to ignore the teachers instructions, walking over to take his place beside his fellow Slytherin.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, but I believe I told you to sit next to Mr. Potter."

"Sir, I'm sorry but I can't."

"Why ever not?"

"Because Potter is a complete and total git."

"Mr. Malfoy! Five points from Slytherin!"

"But it's true! He is as dreadful as they come! His face looks like a horse's ass, his magic is shotty, and he only wears glasses so he can look smart!"

"Another five points from Slytherin."

"But-"

"Mr. Malfoy, please see me after class."

"Father will hear about this!"

"Yes, yes… shut up and sit down!" Potter shouted at him, looking irritated.

"Shut up and sit down? Next to the likes of you? You're not even worthy of sitting next to anyone of my _pure _bloodline, you halfblooded idiot!"

Potter stood up with anger blazing in his eyes.

"Look, I've had a bad morning, Malfoy! I'm not in the mood to put up with you!" Potter drew his wand.

Malfoy whipped out his wand in response.

"I'm not exactly in the mood to play around either, Potter!"

Malfoy was tired, and suddenly in a very bad mood. He refused to take any abuse from his arch-rival today. He would wipe the floor with him!

"Boys! Wands away! NOW!", the normally relaxed professor Flitwick roared. Reluctantly both the boys obeyed him, slipping their wands back into the pockets of their robes as they glared menacingly at each other.

"Ten points _more _from Slytherin! Ten from Gryffindor! Both of you sit down right this instant, and I expect both of you to serve detention with me tonight!"

They both mumbled apologies to Flitwick and sat down, facing away from each other.

**Hi everyone,**

**So I've come to a very important decision. I'm not asking for reviews anymore, and not holding anything hostage just to see reviews. It's ridiculous and childish, and good work should speak for itself. A reviewer brought it to my attention that I'm probably losing a lot of reviewers by demanding so much, and it's annoying and just doesn't sit well. I lost that person as a loyal reader because of my review whoring. So, I'm not going to ask for 20 reviews anymore, not even 1. A good author's work should speak for itself, and not need to demand reviews to get them. Anyone who actually likes the story and respects my work will review rather or not I demand it, and I might actually be turning off a lot of potential reviewers by being a review whore. Some of you might have noticed I deleted then reposted all my old chapters past chapter 5. I deleted all my comments about wanting X number of reviews, because looking back it's distasteful, and I also did some minor editing.**

**With love,**

**ICU**


	13. Obvious

**Hi, everybody! Sorry it took so long... I went on a vacation for a few weeks to see some family, and didn't have computer access. Anyway... Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Each one made my heart soar a little higher.**

Harry walked slowly up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. Everything step he took he became colder. He felt numb on the inside. Confused. Shocked. But most of all... just guilty. _How could I have missed it all this time? It all makes sense! It was so obvious!_

The fear in Hermione's eyes... the way she trembled, all the random bruises, all the poorly done excuses... All the moments were Ron would just disappear with Hermione and come back alone.

It all came together, the gruesome pieces of the puzzle fitting together in perfect harmony. A sick, twisted answer to the question he'd never asked. How could he have been so blind? Ron was beating Hermione... abusing her... hurting her. Somehow it had all escaped Harry's notice. _I should have paid more attention! I should have been suspicious!_

Harry felt like throwing himself down a well. He felt so damned guilty. He could have helped Hermione. He could have stopped her pain..

But it just couldn't be true! After all it was his arch-rival who gave him the news... and Malfoy always lies! How would Malfoy know anyway? He was probably just trying to mess with Harry's head... that sounded right. Ron would never do anything so heinous. He loved Hermione. They were happy together.

Harry flashbacked to the detention he had with Flitwick, and the discussion with Malfoy that just could not be true.

_"Now, you two will write 'I will not disrupt Professor Flitwick's class ever again.' one thousand times. Give me your wands. No magic will be permitted until you've finished. You are here until you are done with your punishment!"_

_Harry sighed. He should be up in his common room right now, not standing next to Malfoy, in detention. He hadn't even done anything wrong, really. Malfoy had started it. Harry was just trying to defend himself._

_Harry felt a surge of anger at the injustice, but handed over his wand without argument. Malfoy glared at Harry, venom in his eyes, before whipping his out and rather violently shoving it into the professor's hand. _

_Neither of them wanted to be there, that much was apparent. _

_Without a word, Flitwick pocketed both wands and pointed to Harry then to one of the four massive chalkboards. He did the same to Malfoy. At least he was smart enough not to let them work near each other._

_Flitwick sat at his desk, nursing a cup of tea as he graded paper after paper. The only sound was the continual scratch of chalk against blackboard. Otherwise, it was dead silent. The silence was maddening. It was the worst part of detention. The hand cramps didn't bug Harry half as much as the silence did._

_Every once in a while, Harry would turn his head and send a powerful glare in Malfoy's direction. Never did their eyes meet, but Harry could feel Malfoy's icy glower against his back occasionally. It was strangely satisfying to know that Malfoy was in detention. Even though Harry was in trouble himself, it felt so good to have that arrogant bastard get what was coming to him._

_Around the six hundredth and seventy eighth messy scrawl of 'I will never disrupt Professor Flitwick's class ever again', the professor left the classroom, presumably to refill his teacup._

_For a few minutes neither boy acknowledged the other, though the exchanging of glares became increasingly frequent. Finally Harry dropped his chalk, stomping on it with the heel of his shoe._

_"This is all your fault, you stupid ferret! Can't you do anything besides make life hard for me? Get a hobby? Leave the country? Die?"_

_"Making your life miserable is my hobby, you sniveling, pathetic, halfblood! No one even likes you! You think you're so special, but really you're just a stupid, parentless, bastard!" Malfoy hissed back, dropping his chalk as well._

_They turned to face each other._

_"You're such an asshole! Hiding behind you're mummy and daddy, and you're precious Voldemort! YOU, COWARD!" Harry shouted._

_"At least I have friends, unlike you! YOU'LL ALWAYS BE AN OUTSIDER! NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DIE!"_

_"Ha! You call those grunts that mindlessly follow you around friends? Give me a break! How much attention do you think they'd give you if you're parents weren't rich? If you weren't in Voldemort's close personal circle? NO ONE WOULD GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU!"_

_"Don't make me laugh Potter! You're only friends are that bushy haired freak, and the poor ginger with anger management issues! I'm close friends with some of the wealthiest people in the wizarding world! And you just have the traveling freak show."_

_"Don't you ever say that about Ron and Hermione! You don't know the first thing about them you half-witted, sissy!"_

_"Oh I don't do I? I know more than you might think, fool. More than you'll ever know, Potter!"_

_"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry yelled. How dare Malfoy insult his friends!_

_"I bet you never notice Granger's bruises do you, you ignorant son of a mudblooded bitch." Malfoy didn't yell at all this time. He spoke calmly, with a smirk, and rage boiling in his eyes._

_"What are you... talking about?" Suddenly Harry didn't seem so sure of himself. He felt more confused by Malfoy than angry. His words had stopped the anger dead in its tracks._

_"Granger. She walks around with bruises, fear in her eyes, silent, and pathetic! She avoids the Weasel King at all costs! She gets strange injuries, disappears at random times! It's not that hard to piece together, Potty." Malfoy grinned with a malicious glow surrounding him, like a demon._

_Silence. Nothing but silence, as Harry slowly put together what his foe was suggesting._

_"No! You're a dirty, dirty liar Malfoy! Ron would _never_ do that. EVER."_

_"Believe what you want to, you ignorant toad. I have a life to get back to." Malfoy walked over to Flitwick's desk, digging through the drawers till he found his wand. With a tip of his hand, his black board was filled with all one-thousand repetitions of 'I will never disrupt Professor Flitwick's class again'. Without another word, Malfoy walked out the door._

Harry just couldn't believe that Malfoy had been telling the truth. It was _Draco Malfoy_ for crying out loud. Slytherin, known death-eater, son of Voldemort's right hand man. Not exactly the most trustworthy person. Yet... now that he thought about it, everything he said made perfect sense.

But it simply couldn't be true.

Ron wasn't a violent man. Not even an angry man. He was a good-natured, humorous, fellow. Someone Harry trusted absolutely. Someone who would never think of hurting anyone, let alone his girlfriend. It just was impossible.

Yet, so very possible.

Harry sighed, opening up the door to his common room.

_The next time I see Ron, I'll ask him about this. Whatever he says, I'll trust his word._

Harry walked over, sitting by the fireplace, left still roaring. It was nearly eleven o'clock by the time he'd finished with his punishment. His hands were cramping like no tomorrow.

"Hey, Harry!" A familiar voice called from the bottom of the stair case, startling Harry despite its friendly tone. He hadn't been expecting anyone to be awake this late at night.

Harry turned around to see a shock of bright red hair, a pale face, speckled with freckled.

"Hey, Ron." Harry didn't offer a smile, or a wave. He felt very tense, as he stared at his friend. Worry that Malfoy's words might have been the truth flowed in his veins, leaving them ice cold.

"Why are you here so late? We missed you at dinner." Ron half-smiled, before sitting down in one of the nearby arm-chairs. There was something cold and steely in his eyes, just a flicker. Like he was hiding something. It disappeared as soon as it had come, and Harry decided that he must have imagined it.

"Detention with Flitwick."

"Oh. Doesn't sound pleasant." Ron glanced to the girls' dormitory for a second, at least Harry thought he did... but he decided to also dismiss it as his imagination.

"It definitely could have gone better. I had a run in with Malfoy."

"Did you kick the crap out of him?" Ron laughed.

"No. But he told me something interesting. I was actually hoping to talk to you about it."

"Um...ok?"

"Ron, whatever you say I'll believe you. But I just have to know... do you hit Hermione?"

Abruptly the steel was back in Ron's eyes. His eyebrows turned down, and his usual grin turned into a sharp, grimace. He glared.

"No. Of course not. Now you've had a long night. You're not thinking clearly. Go upstairs and sleep, Harry. I'll be up in a bit."

"Ok... I trust you. Night."

Harry let out a deep breath of relief. He was glad to know that Malfoy had been lying, as usual. He would sleep easy tonight

**Please review! It's all very appreciated!**


	14. Crucio

**Hey everyone. So I got a rather hurtful review attacking me personally. "Are you (the author) always such an attention whore?"-Guest. First of all: If you're going to review, review about the story, not about the author. If you have a personal problem with me, private message me, and I'll try and sort it out there. But do not review for a story, and insult the author. I'm fine with criticism of my work. It lets me know how I can improve, and tells me that there's someone out there really paying close attention to what I've written. I welcome criticism with an open heart. But insulting me on a personal level is NOT appropriate. If you don't like me, deal with that on your own. I really don't need to hear about your issues with me. I could care less. But if you're going to post a review that is so distasteful, you could at least have the balls to sign in and leave your name. Just sayin. **

**Anyway... Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate it, rather it be criticism, or compliments! On with the story.**

Hermione tossed and turned, staring up at the ceiling. Every cell in her body was tense with anxiety. She had seen the look in Ron's eyes when he found out about her midnight roaming. He was suspicious, and pissed off. He could hear the lie in her voice, knew the lameness of her excuse... he knew she was hiding something. That was never a good thing.

Hermione knew that she was going to get it. She felt a lump swell in her throat, as she gulped. She almost wished Ron were here right now, so she could just get the beating over with. It just made it so much worse when she had no idea when she would be hit, no way to see it coming. The waiting made her nervous, and kept her looking over her shoulder at every oppurtunity. She just wanted to hide under a big boulder, like a worm, and disappear from sight, lost to the dirt. Worms never worried about this kind of thing. Worms were lucky. They didn't think, or feel, or worry... they just existed. Hermione wondered for a moment if they were happy, or just numb.

Oh, how she longed to be a worm.

Her heart raced fast, and she could hear its pounding deep within her if she laid very still. It was loud like a drum. She missed the calm of having a mundane life, buried in books. She sighed, and closed her eyes for just a moment. She tried to find her happy place. It was only then that she realized she didn't really have one. There was no place in this wide world that Ron couldn't find her, no place to hide, no place to run. No ever elusive happy place in which she could make her great escape.

She just squeezed her eyes tighter, curling up her body, tucking her head underneath her pillow. She tried again and again to find her happy place. A sanctuary, a nirvana... somewhere, anywhere, where Ron could not hunt her down.

_Well, there is one_ _place..._

Hermione thought of the tower, windowless, unknown, indescript, with its dancing shadows and ever burning candles. The only downside to it was Malfoy, but at the moment she didn't mind so much. Malfoy wasn't as bad as Ron, at least not as threatening at the moment.

_I might be able to make it this time..._ Hermione thought to herself. On the way out that morning she'd tried very hard to remember the way... maybe some of it stuck.

_It would definitely be better than just laying around going crazy..._

Hermione got up slowly, looking around from side to side.

No one was awake. She was suprised that Ginny wasn't awake, waiting for her to "sleepwalk". She exhaled, relieved for the moment. She stood up, tip-toeing, quiet as a mouse... or a worm. She made it to the stairs and gracefully hopped down them, careful not to make any noise. The last thing she wanted was to wake up her housemates. She gave a little smile as she reached the bottom of the steps, feeling a little bit of glee, happy to be on her way. She glanced around the common room, noting that someone had left their bag in one of the corners. The tiny hint of a smile stayed on her face as she gently padded her way over to the portrait hole.

"Going somewhere, _sweetheart?" _

Hermione froze in her tracks. She didn't dare move another inch, speak a word... even breathing seemed like risky business. Her eyes grew Swide, and her soft grin disappeared, abruptly replaced by a sharp grimace. How could she have been so foolish? She should have thought this through... she should have known he'd be waiting... Her heart sank like a stone in water.

She turned around, her movements stiff, full of anxiety.

"Um... no."

"You're a liar. A dirty, pathetic liar." Ron whispered, but it was the kind of whisper that barely concealed a shout. The kind of whisper that seemed louder than yelling.

Hermione gave him no response, just staring blankly, fear coursing through her veins, primal and beastly. Ron smirked at her, looking vaugely amused underneath the anger. _Ron's smile is never a good thing..._ she thought to herself.

"It's quite funny actually. You thought you could pull one over on me. It's laughable. It really is." Ron gave a dry, menacing chuckle, "Come, Hermione. Sit." Ron gestured the armchair next to him.

Hermione didn't hesitate. She urged her body, rigid with terror, to move. To obey. Obedience was a way of life when it came to these situations. Courage and rebellion had no place in these ordeals, they only made the pain worse. She slowly made her way to him, sitting down, her body so reluctant to bend when her muscles were tense with dread.

"Good girl," Ron spoke like he was talking to an compliant dog... it was hideously degrading. For a moment the two set in silence, the air electric as anger and fear collided in the atmosphere. Without any warning, Ron suddenly launched himself at her, his hands at her throat, wringing it. Hermione clawed at the hands, trying in vein to gain freedom from his clutches.

Ron looked at her with cold, uncompassionate eyes as he wrung the life out of her. _These are the eyes of a sociopath... _Hermione thought to herself, as every cell in her body fought to live.

Just as abruptly as he had started, he stopped, simply letting her go as he through her thoughtlessly onto the hard floor. Hermione thrashed for a moment there, like a fish out of water, as she gasped again and again, willing her heart to beat and her lungs to breathe. All the while Ron looked at her with malicious eyes, glassy, and full of rage.

"You'll never guess what I heard today, bitch," Ron kicked her in the side with great gusto, and Hermione gave a loud yelp, "Our good friend Harry stopped by to have a little chat with me. He wanted to know if I _beat_ you. TOLD ME DRACO MALFOY TOLD HIM!"

_Oh no... Malfoy, what have you done?_

Ron took out his wand.

"I'm guessing you have_ no _idea how Malfoy found out do you, slut?" Ron's eyes narrowed into slits. He aimed the wand at her face. "Crucio!"

All of a sudden Hermione's body felt like it was being torn inside out, eaten by bears, cut into a million little peices, and set on fire. She withered on the ground, in too much pain to scream. She didn't even think that level of suffering was possible... to much agony to scream... only to squirm on the floor, thrashing wildly about, tears running from her eyes. The earlier strangulation was nothing by comparison... this was just absolutely terrifying. She knew what it felt like to be in hell, now. The fire consuming her endlessly, as she struggled in vein, her eyes squeezing shut.

Ron laughed. He actually laughed.

"Pathetic, little whore."

His words meant nothing. Nothing at all. The pain was everything, and nothing, the past, the present, the future, the entire world, seeming to sing with this pain.

With a flick of Ron's wand it was suddenly over, just like that.

"Come on, _honey._ I'm not an idiot. You're getting cozy with Malfoy, sharing scandolous midnight visits, telling him all about my dirty little secret. Letting the whole damn universe know. Well not anymore, god damnit! You are mine. _MINE. _You are never, ever going to so much as look at him again, BITCH. I will _kill you! _If you think I'm bluffing, you snivveling little slut, you've got another thing coming. I _can_ and _will _punish you however a see fit. Believe me I will be watching, bitch."

Ron kicked, slapped, punched, in a repetitive cycle for over an hour. Hermione was left bruised, bloody, barely breathing, yet she felt none of it. She'd gone numb to it. Nothing could hold a candle in the wind to the unforgivable curse... nothing. Not under the moon, the stars, the sun... nothing could possibly compare to the unending agony of the Crucio curse.

When all was said and done, Ron walked off rather calmly, leaving her to her own devices, as Hermione lay almost dead.

"Oh my god, Hermione... I never knew... I'm so so sorry!" A familar voice whispered from behind a nearby bookshelf. A figure hurried out there, crawling over to her. Hermione was too far gone to really feel shock, but she was dimly suprised to see Neville Longbottom crouched beside her, concern radiating from behind his dark brown eyes.


	15. Healing

Hermione gazed at Neville with a sight that seemed so much hazier than normal. Her vision reminded her of watching an old muggle movie, lines going across the screen, the occasional wave of static, color glitching in parts, the picture clouded and fuzzy. She blinked again and again, but there wasa no change. She willed her lips to move, wished her tongue to form coherent words to no avail. She bid her body to show its strength, silently pleading with herself to get up. Her jaw felt slack, and the world was numb and dark.

"Hermione... You have no idea how sorry I am... I was so blind... I didn't notice! I didn't notice and now you're so hurt and it's all my fault... I should have seen this. I could have helped you!" Hermione heard Neville Longbottom's voice from somewhere far away. With her clouded sight she saw his lips moving, her face contorting into one of upmost guilt, and much worry.

He pulled out his wand.

"Oh, Merlin... I've never healed anyone before, Hermione!"

She wished she could reassure him, tell him that he would do just fine. Even though most of the time he had a tendancy to just magically screw up spells, she had faith that when his friend's health was on the line, he'd be just as good as anyone else.

He worked in silence, save for the occasional prayer to a higher power that he wouldn't mess this up.

As the hour progressed Hermione's vision began to gradually imrove, as did everything else as far as she could tell. Neville was doing better than most people would give him credit for. When a friend was at risk, he really put his heart into the magic, Hermione knew that much.

As soon as she regained control of her voice she spoke the words the words that had been dying to break lose for the last hour or so.

"Thank you, Neville. Thank you so, so much." Tears fell from Hermione's eyes. She'd been crying an awful lot the last couple of days between Malfoy, and Ron... and these happy tears shed for Neville. They were most definitely happy tears, even in this sad situation in which she found herself. Finally, someone knew. Someone who wasn't... just evil. _Well, mostly evil..._ Hermione admitted she'd seen little flickers of fleeting humanity from Malfoy every once in a while. But now there was kind hearted Neville. Someone who would be compassionate, someone who would care. It was a very big relief to have someone, anyone that cared.

She felt happy. For the first time in a long while, she felt honestly happy.

"You're welcome... so very welcome. I only wish I could do more." Neville looked at her with deep sadness and regret in his eyes.

By the time Neville was done, all her wounds were mended and she was able to sit up. The two sat together in silence, the atmosphere filled with all the things that one could not say with words. All the stories that only silence could tell.

After half an hour of quiet, Hermione spoke.

"How much did you see?" Hermione felt slightly embaressed at having someone bare witness to her agony, her moments of weakness.

"All of it. Every last atrocious minute. I came down to get my bag. I left it here before I went to bed, and forgot all about it... I saw Ron in the armchair, but he didn't see me... You showed up just a few seconds after I did. I thought you two were meeting up for a snogging session or something, so I hid. I didn't want you guys to see me head back to the dorm, and you were standing at the right angle to... I felt like I was intruding on something... I felt very rude. I didn't want to spoil your moment, and I just got nervous, and thought you two would yell at me, and I hid! Then... he didn't snog you senseless. The opposite actually. And I heard everything, every moment of your pain... I'm so sorry."

"Oh..." Hermione couldn't think of a better response. What was there to say? There wasn't exactly a book on this kind of thing. Not one Hermione had read anyway, and Hermione had read a lot of books.

"Hermione, tommorow you and I are going to Dumbledore about this." Neville wasn't giving her any options. There was no leniancy in his voice. It was not a request. Authority didn't suit Neville very well. He wasn't used to giving orders, that much was obvious. Hermione had no trouble arguing with him.

"No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?" Neville shook his head, quirking an eyebrow, confused.

"We just can't... Ron will be expelled, Neville."

"After what I just saw I frankly do not give a bloody chocolate frog what happens to that... that bastard!"

"You may not... but I do..."

"Hermione! How the bloody hell can you care what happens to that sociopath?" He was aghast, his jaw dropping.

"I just do."

"Do you... still love him?" Neville seemed horrified by the fact that Hermione could possibly still love a demon like Ron. Hermione wished she didn't have to tell him the sad, pathetic truth.

Hermione sighed, "...Of course. One does not simply stop loving someone. Never. Even once they've lost all they're sense, become raging lunitics, and used the crucio curse you... nothing stops love. Not even the hate he must feel for me to do such awful things, will stop my love. I know Ron's in there somewhere. The Ron I know, the one I fell in love with. And I will not let anything bad happen to him. Ever."

If she could stop loving him, she would have long ago. She wished she could just quit. But love doesn't give you choices.

"Hermione. I'm speaking as a very, very concerned friend. You need help, and you need it now. You heard Ron. There's a real chance that he might _kill_ you. Protest all you want, but we ARE going to Dumbledore."

"Neville, I'm tired of people making decesions for me. Ron always orders me around like I'm a peice of filth, and Malfoy most of the time treats me like I'm just a bloody slave. I don't want to do that. I will _not_ do that. I've fucking had it with people telling me what to do all the damn time. I'm drawing the line here."

"But-!"

"No buts. This is my call, not yours. When Ron kicks the crap out of you, by all means tell the whole damn world about it. But this is my business."

"Hermione..." Neville seemed so desperate to make her see sense. It broke Hermione's heart a little.

"I love him, Neville. If I didn't love him I wouldn't put up with this constant fear and pain. I would leave. I would tell someone. But I _do_ love him... and because of that I just can't bare to turn him in."

"That's ridiculous."

"Love _is_ ridiculous."

"This conversation isn't over. I hope you know that. But... I do want some answers."

"Such as?"

"How is Draco Malfoy involved in all of this?"

"He found out about Ron and blackmailed me into being his slave. I sneak off at night to go to a secret tower that Malfoy showed me and I have a peculiar habit of running into him along the way so lately I've been spending an unusual amount of time with him."

"How long has this been going on?"

"The whole blackmail thing has been going on since school started."

"No... I mean the abuse..."

"I guess about two years."

"How often does he...do this type of thing?"

"I don't know. I stopped keeping track a long time ago. Whenever he wants to, I suppose."

"Why does he do it?"

"In the big picture? I don't know. Suddenly, he just... changed. Became this person who is so full of anger and hate, and he just unleashes it all on me. One day he told me _goNodnight,_ then the next morning he was just a totally different person. It was very sudden. In the little picture? It varies. Mostly he just uses whatever excuse he can find, something little I haven't done right, or just something that's not my fault at all... I always take the blame for everything that goes wrong in his life. A part of me knows he's right."

"He's definitely _not _right. He's very, very much so wrong."

* * *

Draco paced around the Slythin corrider, knowing he should go up to the tower immediatly, but feeling the bizarre to search for _her._ He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but something felt very, very wrong. All his instincts were screaming at him to find that filthy, disgusting little mudblood. Normally, he couldn't stand her. Never in his entire life, even in his most benevolent of moments, had he ever pictured himself haunting the halls long after midnight, searching in a strange frenzy for Hermione Granger. It was just so deeply out of character.

There was asick feeling in his gut, a twisting, wreching feeling. He knew at the core of his icy heart that there was something amiss. Something sinister afoot. He found himself worried about the girl he claimed to despise. Not that he would ever admit to anyone, even himself that he was at all concerned.

It seemed like Hogwarts was a few shades darker, the air ten degrees colder, the atmosphere charged with a manevolent energy. It sickened Draco, and made him feel just a twinge of fear for Hermione.

_Maybe, Weasel killed her..._ Draco felt a hard lump swell in his throat, _No... No way in hell the would the ginger even think of doing that. He doesn't have the balls._

A hint of doubt wriggled its way into Draco's brain, making him shiver. He found himself wishing everytime he rounded a corner that he would find her lost, crying, like yesterday. But he never did.

_It doesn't even matter. Who cares? It's not that big of a deal. Even if she is dead... I don't care. I do NOT care. _

But despite all his denial, a little teeny-tiny, barely there, speck of his icy heart did care. And it cared a lot more than Draco would ever admit to anyone, even himself.

No one would ever know that in the dead of night, Draco paced all around the Slytherin corrider searching for hours upon hours to no avail, for the stinking, revolting, beaver-toothed, frizzy haired, mudblooded, Hermione Granger.

* * *

**TWO UPDATES, ONE DAY! I'm on a role, baby! :D**

**Anyway... please, review. They're all very much appreciated (There's another Harry chapter coming up soon. Finally, a glance into why he's being so damn oblivious... yes, he is an idiot as almost all of you acknowleged. Give it time. All shall be unveiled.)**

**I really enjoyed writing this chapter. It just seemed very... real to me? Idk. It just felt good to write it, and have Hermione talk to someone who wasn't for the most part a complete douche bag.**

**I really appreciated all of the reviews from last chapter. Normally I wait a day or two before writing a new chapter, but I just felt so inspired :D**

**Oh my god... I love where this story is going. It makes me so excited.**


	16. The Middle Finger

Hi,** everybody! So I have some really special news! **

**1. I went through and did some serious editing, and fixed all the grammar, spelling, typos, and tweaked up the writing quality on chapters 1-7 (I think 7. It might have been 8 or so, I'm not keeping track). Story is still the same, just a little tweaking to make it better in the hopes that more people will continue reading to get to the good stuff (I'm A LOT better writer than I used to be. I started this story when I was 12).**

**2. There's this story that I really, really liked. It's another D/H fic, and it was just... well epic! But it didn't have much of a following. I really liked it, and wanted to just put its name out there in case anyone was interested. It's called** _**You Don't Own Me **_**and it's written by xJashesx. It's really good, and I encourage everyone to read it.**

**3. So, I noticed something about myself: I always whine about not getting enough reviews, and how silent readers annoy me, and blah blah blah, but I'm a total hypocrite. I read a lot of fanfiction, and I probably only review about 5% of it. Maybe, less. Lately, I've been making an effort to review more and its really put things in perspective. So, for every review I get, I've made it a goal to review something myself, give back you know? So if someone leaves me a review, I'll try my best to review one of theirs as well. That simple. Makes me feel a lot less selfish when I ask for reviews. If you review and you don't have a story, that's fine too. I'll just review another story on fanfiction. If I really like your story, I'll post it in my author's note and encourage others to read as well. Reviewing makes me feel good about myself, like I'm giving something back to other authors, especially the ones who have been actively supporting me :). So, ya, there's that.**

**Anyway... ON WITH THE SHOW!**

**-Icyou**

* * *

Hermione hadn't realized how much it hurt to move until she woke up after the events of the previous night, sore, throbbing, and ready to crawl under a rock and die. After slathering almost the whole bottle of concealer on her many visible bruises, she slipped on her black robe and slowly, painfully made her way to the great hall.

She tried her best to behave normally. At the breakfast table she smiled, and talked animatedly with Harry and Ginny. Luna piped in every now and again, but her comments were rarely conversation relevant, as they mostly centered around the Nargles ongoing war with the Smigglehoppers. Hermione could see where people got off thinking she was crazy. Most of the time Hermione couldn't help but question Luna's sanity, much like the rest of the school population.

Neville stared across the table every now and again, his gaze never meeting her eyes. He still felt guilty, that much was obvious.

Ron didn't spare so much as a glance on Hermione, but behaved like perfectly normal, silly, loyal, thick-headed Ron to the rest of the group.

Neville looked so conflicted, torn between going with Hermione's wishes and keeping his mouth shut, and keeping his friend safe by revealing the truth. Hermione shook her had in his general direction, a silent gesture of her oppinion on the matter. Neville narrowed his brown eyes as if to say: _You're safety comes first, before any "love" or whatever! _Hermione narrowed her eyes as well, gritting her teeth as if to say: _Just shut up! Don't worry about it! I'll be fine, Neville! Just fine!_

"So, Hermione, how'd you sleep? You look a little tired." Harry inquired with a smile, breaking up her and Neville's silent conversation.

"I slept alright." Hermione looked down, mumbling.

"So, how did your 'sleepwalking' adventures go last night? I woke up to go to the bathroom, and you weren't in your bed again, Hermione..." Ginny squinted at her with suspicion.

"Um... fine... they went fine." Ron flashed Hermione a knowing look.

"I don't think Hermione will be having another midnight escapade anytime soon. I was going through my potions book and found a little something that should cure sleepwalking."

In other words: Now, that Ron knew about her after dark feild trips, he was going to put a stop to them. There was no potion, just like there was no sleepwalking. There was just Ron's fist, and Hermione's fear of being caught.

"Hermione? You sleep walk?" Harry tilted his head. This was the first he was hearing on the subject.

"Yes. It's just a weird habit I picked up over the summer. Nothing to worry over." Hermione nervously twirled her hair. _Oh, how I hate lying..._

"Oh... That is strange. But alright, I guess." Harry quirked an eyebrow in her direction, detecting the false note in her voice, but choosing not to persue it. Hermione exhaled deeply, reileved.

"The Squaddlecoons will all have their vengance on the muggle girlscouts by the end of the week, if my estimations are right." Luna whispered quietly to herself. On that note, the conversation shifted away from Hermione, and she couldn't have been happier to be off of the hotseat.

* * *

Draco felt like shit. He hadn't slept at all last night, he hadn't even gotten the chance to lay down! Merlin, when he found Granger, she was going to get a sizable pieve of his mind, that was for certain! Making him search for her all goddamn night... Not that they'd had any agreement to meet up or anything, Draco just assumed that it was implied. After meeting with her the past couple of days, he'd come to expect it. _When I see that stupid mudblood, I'll make her regret the day she crossed Draco Malfoy!_

Draco entered his Advanced Arithmacy class, not suprised to discover that the classroom was unoccupied, save for the teacher, and a singular, bushy-haired, beaver-toothed, mudblooded, pest, sitting at the back of the room.

He stomped over to his seat next to Hermione Granger, slamming his books loudly onto his desk.

"Well, hello there,_ mudblood._" He hissed under his breath, barely audible. He didn't want the aging proffesor to hear him use vulgar vocabulary, so he kept his voice extremely quiet, keeping his lips very close to Granger's ear.

"Hi, Malfoy." Hermione whispered back calmly.

"Where the hell were you last night?" Malfoy glared at her, menacingly as ever.

"Why do you care?"

"Let's get one thing straight here, bitch. I _don't_ give a damn."

"For someone who doesn't give a damn, you sure do ask a lot of questions."

"Shut up, you stupid mudblood! I _do not_ care one little bit. I just wanted to know where my property was, like I would with any of my possesions." Draco drawled, hoping he sounded just as heartless to her as he knew he was on the inside.

"You don't own me, Malfoy."

"Our agreement still stands. You _are_ my slave, Granger."

"Not anymore."

"What do you mean, not anymore?"

"I know that you told Harry. I kept my side of the bargain, you didn't keep yours. The deal's off."

Draco gave a low chuckle.

"There is no deal. This isn't a deal, Granger. This is blackmail, which you obviously have no concept of. I can do whatever I want, and you have to live with that, because I'm the one with all the power here. I can tell anyone at anytime all about your dirty little secret. Break it off with me, and I won't just tell Harry. I'll tell Dumbledore, Hagrid, all your friends, the Daily Prophet, anyone who will listen! And you can't do anything to stop me." Draco smirked at her. He was feeling like being a jerk today. He had slept barely a wink in the last ninty-four hours or so. He was tired, frustrated, and ready to kick some ass.

"I can't belive you told Harry! You have no idea what I went through last night because of _you!"_

"Nothing and I do mean_ nothing _that happens to you is my fault in any way shape or form, Granger! If you're looking to point fingers point them at yourself, because if anyone is to blame for any of the shit you go through, it's _you! _You're the one who stays with a person that does crazy shit to you every fucking day." Draco spat angrily.

All this transpired in frenzied whispers, so low no one could here, but full of such emotion that it was as powerful to Draco's ears as furious yelling.

"Excuse me Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger, but class has started! If you would kindly get your lips away from each other's each, stop with that nonsensical whispering, and realize that class is in session, it would be much appreciated!" Professor Vector snapped at them from the front of the classroom.

Both Granger and Draco abruptly stopped their discussion, and sat like statues, as they listened to Professor Vector.

Underneath the table, Draco raised his middle finger to the mudblood in a manner most uncouth. To his surprise, Granger raised her's in kind.

* * *

**Sorry if there are a few mispellings and such. I didn't spend much time editing because I've been editing so many other previous chapters today I am so tired of editing for the day .**

**Anyway... I have a special goal. I would really like to make 300 reviews. I only need 12 more, and it would mean a lot. **

**Remember: If you review, I'll review one of your stories in kind, as part of my effort to become a more proactive reader instead of a silent one. :3**

**Thanks to everyone so much! I love you all! Oh and earlier today I accidently published a previous chapter as chapter 17. I got confused while editing, and long story short, it was a total accident. Sorry if anyone got an alert only to find there was no new material... sorry! Won't happen again.**

**-Icyou**


	17. Paranoid

Draco stared up at the ceiling of the Slytherin Dormitory, broodingly. It was just after dinner. Every other Slytherin was having a grand time in the Common Room, chatting, playing games, studying... Except Draco. Despite being the all but worshipped leader in the snake den, he really hated being around his fellow Slytherins, or anyone for that matter. One of the less enjoyable things about being Draco Malfoy, was the loneliness. No one could ever live up to his golden standard, at least not in his eyes... Not Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Blaise, no one. It was lonely at the top, and as far as Draco was concerned, the top was the only place that could do him justice.

He could only pretend to honestly like those vermin for so long. Hell, everyone was pretty damn loathsome from his point of view. The only people that were anything above pathetic rats, in Draco's opinion, were the Dark Lord, his own father, Severus Snape (just barely above the rest of the mongrel hoard, just by a fraction of a greasy head), Auntie Bellatrix... and, of course, Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's beloved mother.

Narcissa was the only person he thought of as on par with himself. An equal, certainly. She was different than the other Malfoys, different than the other deatheaters... she was by far the kindest in both parties, and among the most intelligent. She never killed anyone, more of a bystander in this wizarding war than a participant. She had chosen a side, but never truly acted as anything more than a minor supporter. A cheerleader for Draco's father.

Narcissa wasn't built for evil. Of that, Draco was certain. The thought of his dear mother made his ice heart melt a little, and the firm line of his lips turn upward slightly at the corners. If there was one person on the face of this earth that Draco truly loved, it was his mother.

When he thought about her, he found it very difficult to be irritated. Draco was almost always angry about something, either that or he was simply cold, and uncaring. Secretly, Draco enjoyed his feelings of bitter resentment. It was better than feeling nothing at all, and it seemed that Draco had lost the capability to experience any emotions at all besides burning fury.

Sometimes, Draco wondered if he had somehow, lost his heart. Somewhere between here and there, if he had misplaced it, abandoning it out in the snow like a pair of warm mittens left to unravel in the ice. It hurt him a little, deep inside, to think of himself as a creature without feeling. But if not that, then what in the world could he be? A saint? A sinner? No, a sinner felt guilt, a kind of guilt that Draco wasn't capable of producing.

He was angry. Always angry. Full of hatred, an acid in his mind that cleansed him of all purity. An acid that warped him and twisted him at his core, robbing him of his innocence, devouring every last scrap of humanity in his soul.

Sometimes, Draco regretted losing his heart. Sometimes, he thought he was better off without the liability.

Draco tossed and turned on his bed, hearing the boisterous happenings of the Common Room, audible even in the Dormitory. He grabbed his pillow and crammed his head underneath it, in vein efforts to cut off the endless droning of his comrades in the other room.

Even now, he was angry. Angry, at that simply revolting mudblood. How dare be so bold as to flip him the bird! Stupid peasant. It was like she had absolutely no respect for him! He was _Draco Malfoy._ The very best young man this side of Europe (in his own professional opinion) and she had the audacity to treat him like he was the common house rat! In a way he admired her nerve, and was relieved to see her showing some backbone for the first time in the last few years, but that didn't mean that her actions didn't piss him off none the less.

Draco gritted his teeth, and glared at up at the backside of his pillow.

_"I can't believe you told Harry! You have no idea what I went through last night because of _you!" Granger's annoyingly nasally voice kept echoing in his mind.

_What exactly did she mean by that? _Draco thought.

He shook his head, tossing the pillow listlessly to the ground. He didn't care... but a part of him couldn't help but wonder what exactly had happened to Granger. She did seem pretty bent out of shape this morning. Was it just his imagination or was she stiff when she walked? Was that a new bruise on her face, or just a trick of the light? Was her lip swollen, or just a little chapped?

Draco picked the pillow up off the floor and immediately threw it as hard as he could into a nearby wall. Suddenly, he didn't feel so apathetic. Had Granger been raped last night? Her bones broken? Her body used, and abused, and grotesquely mangled?

Draco huffed at himself. This was _not _under any circumstances, any of his concern. Not in the slightest. And it most certainly wasn't his fault.

Draco absolutely loathed Hermione Granger. Everything about her from her beaver teeth, to her cocky demeanor. From her former boldness, to her current pathetically fearful outlook. From her arrogant smirk, to the terrified expression that constantly haunted her eyes.

He was awoken from his musings by a harsh rapping against a nearby window. He was greeted by the round, unblinking, amber eyes of an unusually large, jet black owl. Slowly, he reached over to the latch and opened the window. The owl didn't waste any time, inviting itself in. It rested on Draco's bed, a letter in one of its fearsome talons. Hesitantly, Draco took the letter.

It had a bright scarlet seal, as though it were made from congealed and dried blood. Draco didn't bother finding a letter opener. He just ripped open one of the sides with his teeth, reaching in and pulling out a short letter.

He gestured with his free hand for the large owl to be on his way. The owl held out one of his clawed feet as if to say _What? No tip?_

He sighed and digging into one of the many pockets on his black robe, and pulling out a single silver sickle, placing it on the bed, near the owl. The owl took it gently in his beak, and took off out the open window, without any more convincing.

Draco unfolded the piece of parchment immediately. He knew that it was either from his mother, or his father, and he was in high hopes that it was the latter of the two.

_Draco,_

_I will not waste time with pleasantries. I am writing to you for one reason, and one reason only. I know all about you and that filthy Granger girl. For now, I am giving you the benefit of the doubt, and assuming that you're simply gathering information on the disgusting mudblood for the Dark Lord's cause. I order you to stop any kind of relationship with her that you may have, no matter what its purpose may be. Cease any contact with her immediately, or suffer the consequences. I assure you, they will be dire if this behavior continues. Remember, I am always watching you, even in the places where you think I cannot see you, I can. I do. I have eyes everywhere, and it would be in your best interest to remember that. If I so much as see you looking at that revolting mudblood, I will personally see to your death. If you think I am kidding around, I assure you, you will be grimly mistaken. Remember, I am always watching. Always._

_Sincerely,_

_Father._

Draco's grey eyes grew wide in shock. How did his father know about Granger? Not that there was much to know about, of course. It wasn't like he was fraternizing with the enemy. But still... how did his father know anything about this? What eyes could his father possibly have, here at the school? How the hell could his father always be watching?

Part of the reason he liked being at Hogwarts was the freedom of not constantly being under his father's thumb. At home, Lucius was a tyrant. He demanded perfection from his wife, his son, the house elves, everyone. Draco was under seemingly constant surveillance from the moment he stepped out of his bedroom every morning. His father was always waiting around the corner for Draco to make an inexcusable slip up.

Draco had never smiled in the presence of his father.

He felt like he'd just received a firm blow to the stomach. The wind knocked out of him, Draco laid on the bed, and reread the letter over and over.

How? How could Lucius manage to get to him _here_? How did he know his every move, even now? Draco looked frantically around the room, searching for camouflaged cameras, or microscopic spies. He was on edge. Paranoid.

_Is he watching now? Where is he hiding? _ Draco shivered.


	18. Laughter

Everywhere Draco went he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. It put him on edge. He was even quicker to snap at anyone and everyone, constantly peering over his shoulder, always feeling invisible eyes boring into his back. A part of him knew he was being overly-paranoid, but he also knew that in situations with his father, sometimes paranoia was the only thing keeping you from being hexed into oblivion. Every time Draco moved he was very carefully to keep his steps silent, and swift. He slept lightly, that is, if he slept at all.

The one person in the entire world that put the fear of god into Draco was his father.

* * *

_Draco stood with his father at the edge of the balcony at dawn. The scene before the two gentlemen was beautiful, the sun just barely peaking out over the horizon, turning the sky a brilliant shade of pinkish-orange tinged with azure. Every drop of dew on the Malfoy grounds seemed to sparkle in the light of the just barely waking golden sun. It was enough to take one's breath away. Draco only wished he were here under better circumstances._

_He held the puppy he had affectionately named Patches in his hands. Patches looked up at him with trust and content, without a care in the world. The animal was so innocent. She looked to Draco with an unconditional love that he had once thought that only his mother was capable of producing. Patches licked his hands and appeared almost as though she were smiling._

_"No! I can't do it!"_

_"Just drop it off the balcony, Draco! Kill it. It's a mutt after all, something our society will soon have no place for!"_

_"This is different! She's my dog! I love her!"_

_"Is that what you'll say when you fall in 'love' with some disgusting mudblood? That it's different? Well, guess what, Draco? IT'S NOT DIFFERENT. Mixed blood is mixed blood!"_

_"No! I can't!"_

_"I AM ORDERING YOU TO!"_

_"YOU GOT ME THIS PUPPY IN THE FIRST PLACE!"_

_"And now you see why I did. In the life of a death eater you have to kill the pathetic, loathsome mutts of this world! NEVER. GET. CLOSE. TO. MUDBLOODS! You are here to kill them all!"_

_"I KNOW THAT, FATHER! BUT SHE'S JUST A PUPPY! SHE'S NOT A WIZARD! SHE'S NOT EVEN A HUMAN!"_

_"Nor are those stupid, revolting little mudbloods!"_

_"I won't do it, father!" Draco snarled._

_Lucius, with fury in his eyes, suddenly shoved Draco against the side of the balcony and pointed his wand to his neck._

_"Drop the mutt, or I will avada kedevera you into the next life, son!"_

_With tears in his grey eyes, Draco knew he had no other options. Patches... oh, poor Patches!_

Please, _Draco thought, _Please, forgive me, Patches. I'm so , so very sorry. I love you...

_He didn't close his eyes when he dropped her. She deserved his full attention, and he deserved to see the hurt he caused, to have his mind scarred beyond belief by the death that he was putting into motion._

_Patches gazed into his eyes uncomprehending of what was about to happen. Her soft brown eyes sang with all the loyalty and deep love that they always had, and when Draco sobbed and tears ran down his cheeks, her tongue gently lapped them away. He kissed her black, moist little nose._

_The look of sudden betrayal and panic in that she gave him would haunt Draco for the rest of his days, as he let go, and she fell onto the hard pavement five stories below, with a grotesque, sickening thud, and a anguished yelp that made Draco's heart sink._

_Lucius put his hand on Draco's shoulder, patting it firmly._

_"I am proud of you , my son." _

_Lucius smirked in triumph, leaving without another word. Draco ran down the stairs and into the courtyard, hoping to find Patches alive... he was greeted by her limp and lifeless corpse, mangled, and bloody. He dragged it out to the garden and buried it beneath a bushel of roses, singing "She's A Jolly Good Fellow" under his breath, hoping that wherever Patches was, she would forgive him for his sins. A part of his heart stayed with Patches, in her grave, as dead as she was._

_-Age 9_

* * *

Draco didn't go to the Tower anymore, despite his deep desire to. He longed for the feelings of solitude and safety to engulf him like they always did, but he couldn't risk it. Wandering alone at night, in the open, headed to a secret location... the chances of being caught by surprise by the invisible enemy were sky high. He tossed and turned restlessly in his bed, every night.

* * *

_Draco's Mother went to work on his back where the belt had just been striking moments before. His father had seen him help up an elderly woman who had tripped and fell in Diagon Alley. His father insisted that the woman reeked of mudblood. Draco hadn't really put much thought into that when he helped her... it was more of a polite reflex than anything! But his father hadn't thought so kindly of it, and now Draco was hurt again... He was lucky his mom was an excellent healer. Every time his father beat him, a little bit of his innocence left him, and a small chunk of his heart iced over._

_-Age 11_

* * *

Draco found himself shuddering every time he thought of his father, especially when he remembered that somehow, even here, his father was keeping him under close watch. The memories, and current fears, always served to give him a jolt of panic. The paranoia was really beginning to get to him. Every where he looked he saw Lucius. Every day he came to breakfast looking a little more disheveled and restless than the morning before.

* * *

_Draco walked into his father's study, feeling very, very paranoid. His father never called for him unless something awful was about to happen. Usually, with him as the victim. But it was his thirteenth birthday... Maybe, he was just getting a present or something. Even a man as heartless as his father wouldn't hurt their own child on their birthday... right?_

_"Hello, son. Take a seat. I have a surprise for you. " Lucius's smile was cryptic and unsettling. It made Draco's skin crawl._

_"As you know son, today is the day you are no longer a child. As of this moment, you are a man. It's time you pass the threshold of adulthood. I have set up for you the same experience that my father had set up for me on my thirteenth birthday."_

_His father went over to a nearby closet, unlocking the door slowly, before throwing it wide open. Draco couldn't see what was inside._

_Lucius pulled out three young girls, by their hair. They were bound, gagged, and totally naked. His father threw them each onto the floor like they were sacks of potatoes. They squirmed and thrashed against the hardwood floor. Lucius kicked each of them into they lay still, whimpering into their gags._

_"Take your pick, son."_

_"What do you want me to do with them exactly...?" Draco knew exactly what was on his father's mind... but a part of him, the part that still felt compassion of any kind, hoped he was wrong._

_"Pick a girl, beat them, torture them, and fuck them. The hard part's already done. I got them for you, and took care of binding them."_

_"I don't know, Father..."_

_"Don't worry, son. None of these are purebloods. Just muggles and mudbloods I picked up on missions for the Dark Lord. They'll all be dead soon enough anyway, so why not have a little fun?"_

_Mudbloods... it wasn't so bad if it were just mudbloods... they were just like animals...but it still made his stomach churn._

_"Pick a girl, or the only present you'll be getting is a sound beating." _

_Draco gulped... he could not disobey his father. He already knew that. He'd seen his father's fist many times in his life, and he had no desire to see it again._

_He pointed at one of the young woman, at random. He started to take her out of the room, but his father pulled him back._

_"No. Right here."_

_"What? In front of you?"_

_"How can I know that you really did what I asked of you if I can't watch?"_

_Draco felt so very sick to his stomach. Like he didn't dare disobey his father. _

_He raped and beat a mudblood with his Father at his side, giving him pointers, and taking one of the girl's for himself. Draco's heart perished entirely, giving way to stone-cold apathy and numbness. It was so much easier that way. He allowed himself a moment to relish in the sadism of it all. Something inside Draco broke that day, warped and twisted, and became demented and horrifying... he never quite got that something back into working order, nor had he really tried. He felt soulless, empty, and without sympathy for the woman at his feet, or her suffering. _

_-Age 13_

* * *

He hadn't talked with Granger in months. Ever since he'd gotten that letter, he hadn't said a word to her. When they sat together in Advanced Arithmacy he positioned his chair as far away from her as possible, and didn't speak a word. Occasionally he would glance at her through half lidded grey eyes, turned into narrow slits. He would eye her up and down and try and decipher the numb mask of her face. Sometimes, he wondered if she was doing okay, if she was being beaten, raped, hurt. Every now and then she would slip up and a fresh bruise would be visible on her wrist of forearm, but it was all little things that one wouldn't notice unless they knew what they were looking for.

She didn't attempt to make any conversation with him. That suited Draco just fine. Even if he did want to talk to her, there was nothing that he could really say. No words he wanted to speak to her, nor any words he wanted to here from her. Sideways glances were the extent of their current relationship.

* * *

_Draco sat next to his father at the dinner table. They looked almost identical. The fiercely cold expression in his grey eyes was the exact same as his father's. His face was angular and pale, with sharp cheekbones and skin the color of fresh parchment, very closely resembling his father. His hair was the same exact shade of platinum blond. His body was long and lean, well built, but not overly muscular. He was the perfect replica of his father, just the way he'd been raised to be. There was not a hair out of place, nor were there any traces of compassion left in his soul. He was just as his father had wanted him to be from the beginning._

_-Age 16._

* * *

Months upon months past. Overtime, Draco's paranoia ebbed, if only a little. Perhaps, his father had been simply trying to scare him, and give him a reminder that he was always in control. That sounded like something Lucius would do.

It still bothered him, but only a small fraction as much as it had when he had first received the letter. Overtime, Draco grew complacent. He began to sleep at night again, and occasionally venture to the tower. He didn't always look back over his shoulder, and the sensation of being watched was all but gone. He felt much safer.

Draco walked into the library, feeling sure of himself. This was the first time in months that he hadn't spent his off period hiding in the Slytherin Dorm. It felt nice to walk out in public with his head held high, proud and fearless.

He skimmed through one of the shelves, absent mindedly.

That's when he heard it.

A little giggle. It sounded like the soft tinkling bells, and birds chirping, and whimsy. Draco felt a small grin ghost across his own lips. The happiness was infectious. He turned around and saw none other than Hermione Granger sitting at a small table, across from Neville Longbottom. Both of them were chuckling lightly at an inside joke.

He had never heard Granger laugh before. It was magnificent, and made him feel like all the fear and pain of the last few months had been but a bad dream. It made him feel strangely whole.

"Hello, Granger." The first time he'd spoken to the mudblood in quite a long time, and he felt surprisingly confident about it. Like all his worries had faded away into the gentle sound of her laugh.

* * *

**Hi! So, this was yet another Draco chapter without Hermione's POV at all. Don't worry, she's coming up, I haven't forgotten about her, I'm just focusing on Draco for a little while. Her time is coming too!**

**Anyway... a special thanks to my new beta, and friend Rasberryjukebox. Go check out her stuff too! She's even better than I am! Haha.**


	19. Fight

"Hello, Granger."

Hermione craned her neck around to face the voice, a soft smile still gracing her face. Her light hearted grin immediately dropped when she recognized the man before her. She was yet to forgive him for anything. It was because of his actions, both directly and indirectly, that she had suffered so much the last few months. If it weren't for him, some of her bruises would never have existed in the first place, and she wouldn't be cursed with a tracking spell courtesy of Ronald Weasley. It was all the fault of this disgusting, ferret-faced, git. She had no idea why he had ceased all communication with her in the last few months, but she didn't really care why. Silence on his part was more than agreeable with her.

She hadn't forgotten all the nasty things he'd said to her both over the years and in more recent times, nor had it slipped her mind that he had spilled the beans to Harry. Hermione had always been particularly adept at holding grudges, but despite her inner loathing for Draco Malfoy, she was never one to make a scene. No need to blow a fuse in public.

"Go away, Malfoy." Hermione kept a steady neutral voice, keeping her tone measured and devoid of anger.

"Why should I?" He met her monotonous voice with a cool, even tone of his own.

"Because you don't belong here. Go hang out with your Slytherin grunts, or something."

"Who are you to dictate where I belong, Granger? You belong wherever in this world you end up. And I've ended up here for the moment. So fuck off." Malfoy heaved an exasperated sigh.

Hermione couldn't help but notice that he seemed a little different than usual. His normally meticulously gelled and combed hair was a little shaggy at the ends, disheveled. His robs were in total disarray, stained here and there, and wrinkled like they'd never seen an iron. His usually perfectly knotted tie was left undone, lazily hanging off his neck, each side swinging freely.

He looked like someone who had gone to sleep a pretentious image obsessed ego-maniac, and woke up someone who just didn't give a flying chocolate frog about appearances and what other people thought. It was the image of someone who was worn out and tired and had just stopped caring.

Hermione noticed Neville silently gulping and staring at the Slytherin before them. Hermione had told him all about Malfoy. It had only served to reinforce the fear Neville already felt towards him.

Hermione didn't respond to Malfoy, choosing instead to turn her back on him and hope he'd go away. Much to her surprise and irritation, he grabbed a chair from a nearby empty table, and pulled it up next to her, plopping down on it casually.

He picked up one of the many open books between Neville and Hermione, leafing through it. The air was tense and silent. No one said a word.

"Aren't you going to interrogate me about where I've been the last few months? That seems like one of the annoying things you would normally do, Granger." Malfoy peered out at Hermione from behind the cover of _Hogwarts a History._

"I don't care where you've been. I was perfectly fine without you, Malfoy. Far better off actually."

Malfoy just shrugged. Neville tensed up as though preparing for some kind of venomous retort from the young blond.

"I don't care that you don't care, so whatever."

Hermione, done playing games, snatched the book out of his hands and slammed it into the desk.

"What the bloody hell is your problem, Malfoy?" She hissed.

"What's _my_ problem? I'm just sitting next to you calmly reading. I think you're the one with the problem. I'm not here looking for trouble today, Granger. I'm tired. Very, very tired, in ways that you can't even comprehend. So forgive me, if my trying to fucking relax somehow disturbs you, mudblood."

Hermione's eyes opened wide. Malfoy... trying to relax? It's one thing she'd never pictured. It was strange... whenever she thought of what Malfoy must do in his free time, she always pictured him sacrificing kittens to Voldemort or dancing around a bonfire dedicated to Satan. She never really thought of him relaxing, or being normal, or being exhausted. That was too human.

Hermione glared at Draco scrutinizingly. Neville looked around sheepishly.

"Oi, Hermione!" A booming voice called from the doorway.

All the color drained out of her face when she saw a flash of red hair and green eyes swiftly approaching her.

"Oh... Hi, Ron."

Ron ran up to their table and just stood there, gazing menacingly at Malfoy.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy? Your little Slytherin friends get bored of you and find a new leader? Can't blame 'em." He snarled.

Neville stood still as a statue, with sweat beading on his brow. Hermione could only watch in terror. He had warned her not to associate with Malfoy anymore... this was going to be bad. Very, very bad. All because of Malfoy, yet another beating had been sealed for her. She wanted nothing more than to punch him at the moment.

"What are you doing here, Weasel? Finally learning how to read are we? What an accomplishment!" Malfoy smirked in a way that was somehow even more lethal than his glare.

"Watch what you say to me, Malfoy. You don't have your silly little posey to defend you when I kick you ass." Ron growled.

"I don't need any posey to defend me, stupid. You may be bigger than me, but I'm at least ten times stronger. Not to mention I'm rich, devilishly handsome, and quite smart, unlike you. Realistically compared to me, you don't stand a chance."

"Want to test your luck, ferret?" Ron's eyes narrowed into slits.

"Unlike you, I'm not a total barabarian. I'd much rather prefer to settle my disputes with my words instead of my fists, but I assure you both are equally scathing."

"Well, unlike_ you_, I'm not a total and complete _pussy_." Ron hissed.

Malfoy smiled and somehow he could make ever twitch of his lips more menacing than a punch to the face. His grey eyes turned narrow and glossy, like little pools of thunder clouds speaking of doom on the horizen.

"If you refuse to stop being a complete and total jackass, then I guess you leave me no option." Draco Malfoy drawled cockily.

Hermione jumped up immediatly, throwing herself between the two. She wasn't about to let Ron get hurt, or either of them get in trouble. Even though she wasn't exactly fond of the blond haired git, she'd never live it down if they got caught fighting and he were expelled. She would protect the both of them, though mostly Ron. She wasn't going to sit passively by and let these two battle it out. It was against her moral code.

"Stop! We're in public for Merlin's sake!" Hermione grabbed each of them by one shoulder and pushed them apart from each other, straining all her muscles.

"This doesn't concern you, mudblood. Get out of the way or I'll make you get out of the way." Draco's forceful whisper sounded louder than shouting to Hermione. So full of malice.

Ron suddenly grabbed Hermione's risk and yanked it off his shoulder, squeezing it with enough strength to break the fragile bone. Hermione gave a little whimper, abruptly remembering her place.

"_You!_ I talked to you about him! I told you never to go near him again! I turn my back for one second and here you are chatting with him over a book, having a jolly good time!"

Neville hesitantly stood up and grasped Ron's hand, dragging it off of Hermione's wrist.

"S-Stop. C-can't y-you see th-that this is wrong?"

"It's just a lover's quarrel, Neville. Don't interfere." Hermione chimed in softly. Malfoy snorted. Ron's eyes burned with an emerald firre, fueled by deep seated rage. Hermione hated that glint in his eye. It made his formally cute and harmless face look ugly and fearsome.

"Lover's quarrel, my ass..." the Slytherin boy mumbeled.

"Watch yourself, jackass." Ron warned, the fire in his eyes only intinsifying as the moments passed.

"Please, Ron. Don't hurt anyone, or do anything... let's just get out of here."

Ron turned his full attention to Hermione, before grabbing her wrist harshly once more and turning the other direction out the door of the quiet, otherwise empty library. He lead her into the equally empty hallways, and just beyond the first corner.

"Of course, you would want to protect him, Hermione! Obviously you wouldn't want his pretty little face to get punched in, otherwise your little boy toy just isn't as pleasant to look at while shagging, eh?" Ron slapped her once.

"Ron, please stop. It's _you _I was trying to protect. I don't even care about Draco!"

"Then why do you call him his first name?"

Hermione's hand flew to her lips. She had never spoken the name before. It was something she always knew in the back of her mind, but never let touch her tongue. Somehow, it had just flooded out of her mouth. She hadn't thought about. Hadn't actively told herself to speak it. It just... happened.

"It was a slip of the tongue, Ron! There's nothing going on between me and Draco Malfoy!"

"I've seen the way he looks at you! Don't you try and tell me that it's nothing, whore! I'm not an idiot!"

Slap.

"Ron! Stop! I didn't do anything wrong!"

Slap.

"_I'm sorry! Just please stop!"_

Slap.

Then a pause. No words were spoken. No hits were delivered. No new bruises formed, for the moment.

"Yea, Weasley. _Stop_." Hermione hesitantly opened her eyes, and saw none other than Draco Malfoy standing there, staring back at her with rage filled eyes.

"This is none of your concern, Malfoy! Go away!" Hermione sobbed, shaking. Malfoy just ignored her, striding up to Ron and getting up in his face, until they were standing nose to nose.

"Last time I checked she wasn't your fight. _I _was. Stop your 'lover's quarrel' for a moment, and fight like a fucking man you coward." Draco didn't skip a beat. He didn't wait for any response. He just leaned over and sent his fist flying into Ron's exposed stomach.


	20. Revenge

**Sorry, this ones a little short! You'd be amazed by the massive number of swear words in the last 20 reviews all directed at Ron, and encouraging Draco to "KICK HIS FUCKING ASS IN!". I couldn't agree more, of course. **

**The big secret is coming up. A few of you have guessed it (none of you have exactly figured it out, but some have come close). So, can anyone tell me: What do you think is causing Ronald Weasley to act like a total dickface? **

**Anyway, thank you guys so much for all the reviews. I would really love to see another batch like the one I just got. So many of you took the time out of your day to review for little old me, and it made me so happy!**

**ON WITH THE ASS KICKING OF RONALD WEASLEY! GO DRACO, GO!**

**-Icyou**

Weasley roared violently as he sent his balled up fist into Malfoy's perfectly straight nose, leaving it crooked and with drops of crimson blood dribbling down from his nostrils. Draco snarled in rage. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione's horror stricken face as his fist soared through the air, landing squarely in Weasely's eye. He hoped it would be bruised and black by morning.

"_Stop it, Malfoy!" _Granger gasped.

_Not for every single galleon in this world, mudblood... _Draco thought silently to himself as he continued on with his fight.

This had nothing to do with Hermione Granger. This was a matter of Draco's pride. He wasn't about to let someone insult him like that without paying a price. If protecting her was one of the inadvertent results brought upon by kicking Ronald Weasley's ass, then so be it, but defending her still wasn't at the top of his priority list. Though, he didn't mind saving her a beating or two. Despite her loathsomeness, she didn't deserve any of that shit. Especially not from a despicable git like Ronald Weasley.

Perhaps, it was the look in the Weasel's eyes that compelled him into action. Something in their depths reminded him of his own father, and his lost childhood. This wasn't for Hermione. It wasn't even for Draco. No, this was for Patches, and Draco's lost innocence.

He knew, of course, that the man he was kicking the living shit out of wasn't his father in any way shape or form. But beating this abusive little fucker's ass in would probably be the closest he'd ever get to even scratching his father... the look in his eyes... it was just so similar. The eyes of an abusive bastard with nothing to live for but causing suffering.

The feel of Ron Weasley's tender flesh meeting his violent fist was an unbelievable sensation. This wasn't a classy wizard's duel, or a fiery argument. This was something else entirely. This was a _fight._ A hand to hand, toe to toe, nose to nose, battle of pure strength. It was bloody and gruesome and the most beautiful act of violence that Draco had ever known.

It felt like he was getting revenge for himself, for all the years of indignities he himself had suffered, for his beloved dog, and the three mudblooded girls that hadn't deserved their destinies. For all the little things that no one else would ever know about, and for all the things that Weasley had absolutely nothing to do with. Draco glanced over to Granger, and knew that even if he hadn't set out for it to be, this was her revenge to, the revenge that she never wanted.

The two sparring men didn't say a word, make a sound, even yelp in pain when blow upon blow hit them. They just hit, kicked, scratched, spat, and bit. It was the battle of two primal animals locked in a life or death struggle that no one on the outside would ever be able to comprehend, except, perhaps Hermione Granger. But not even she, Draco thought to himself, would ever fully be able to understand.

Sometimes Draco's secrets were things that he tried to hide from even himself. All the atrocities that he had personally witnessed or played part in. Sure, he was a pretty heartless bastard himself, but someone even more heartless than him had made him that way. It wasn't his fault.

It was over in just a few minutes. Weasley was larger than the Slytherin, but his size was nothing but a vulnerability when facing an opponent such as Draco. It impeded his motion and kept him always a little out of balance, whereas Draco was lithe and speedy, with the precession of a striking viper unlike the lumbering lion.

Draco clocked him as hard as he could on his red haired noggin, sending him flying to the floor. The victor huffed and puffed, exhausted but triumphant.

Granger rushed to an unconscious Weasley's side, blood dripping out of his mouth, and tears flowing from her eyes.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, MALFOY? Why would you do this?" Granger gritted her teeth and turned to face him.

"He insulted me and antagonized me."

"That's no excuse for this level of violence!"

"May I remind you, that in our third you punched me in the nose for calling you a mudblood."

"That was different!"

"How so, Granger? Enlighten me with your wisdom." Draco smirked sarcastically.

Hermione Granger trembled, shaking, as she glared at him.

"The difference is that we were CHILDREN then. I've grown up! I'm past the petty insults and even pettier violence! I've become a fucking adult! But I guess that's expecting too much from someone like you, you bloody git!"

"I have grown up as well, Granger. And despite what you say about being an adult, you still cry and shiver like a little girl, a victim, nothing more. The difference between a child and an adult is the ability to stand up for yourself. I can obviously do a much better job on that front than you can, mudblood." Draco obnoxiously drawled.

With a blank, mechanical look on her face, Granger padded towards him. He made no move to back away, or move take action towards her. He merely stared at her, quirking an eyebrow, wondering what she was planning. She got so close to him their toes met each other, and their noses brushed. He found himself strangely not repulsed by her close proximity, nor disgusted by her mudblood stench. He'd never been near enough to smell her before. He'd always assumed it would be nasty, like feces or wet dog. He'd been wrong... as he inhaled deeply he couldn't help but notice the difference between his expectations and reality. She didn't smell like a pig pen or sewage pipe or even rotten eggs. Her aroma was more vanilla, lavender, and the essence of a midsummer night. It was stunning, and took his very breath away. It was another one of those dark little secrets that he filed away, and tried to keep even from himself: He liked Hermione Granger's scent.

Without a word Granger, the girl that did not smell like a dirty toilet, slapped him harshly across his cheek. It stung. It left a handprint shaped welt on his face, red and angry and full of shame.

Just as quickly as she had stuck him, she went back to her beloved abusive bastard, slung him over her shoulder, and stumbled away with him in tow. Malfoy watched her leave with an unreadable expression. She only glanced back once. When she did, she raised her middle finger high in his direction, almost like she wanted the tip to touch the ceiling. Like a robber with their pistol.

Draco observed in stunned silence and she dragged his victim away.

Seeing no point in remaining here, he gathered his thoughts, brushed himself off, chanted a few healing spells, and stomped away in the opposite direction. He didn't care where he was headed, as long as it was far enough away that Hermione Granger's strangely pleasant scent no longer lingered in his nostrils, and his cheek no longer throbbed with such sharp pain.


	21. Safe

Draco sat down stiffly in his Advanced Arithmacy class. Granger scooted her chair far away from him upon his appearance. It was before the lesson started, so the room empty aside from the two students. The teacher hadn't even arrived yet.

Draco glared across the table at her.

"What's your problem, Granger?" He hissed.

He was answered by a wall of silence, unbreaking and cold. The girl didn't even look up.

"Now, you're just being rude. I know you're a mudblood so I can't expect you to have perfect manners, but you should at the very least know that when someone speaks to you, you're supposed to meet their eyes and reply, you stupid girl."

She gave him absolutely no reaction. Not even a tilt of the head.

"Oh, come off it, Granger. I'm not the bad guy here. I beat the ever living shit out of your abusive boyfriend. Hell, I deserve a gold metal or something. I did you a real favor. I bet he doesn't hit you anymore. Though, that has nothing to do with my reasons for beating his ginger ass in. I'm just saying that you of all people have the least amount of reasons to hate me."

Silence. Silence louder than anything Draco had ever heard.

"Fine! Hate me. I don't give a damn. Hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me. I hate you too, anyway. It's no big deal. We're just right back to square one, mudblood. Hating each other."

Granger glared icily at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I wasn't aware that we ever stopped hating each other, Malfoy!" Hermione snapped, finally.

Draco narrowed his grey eyes in her direction, keeping his face smooth and cool, shoving all his inner emotion under a dense mass. With one hand he brushed a piece of dirt of the corner pocket of his robe.

_A Malfoy is always composed, my son..._ His father's words echoed in his mind. He kept having to remind himself to keep a straight face, as his emotions festered and boiled behind his seemingly calm appearance.

"I suppose you're right, Granger." He didn't smirk, didn't glare, didn't scowl. He simply folded his arms across his chest and flashed her his uncaring gaze.

"I hate you, you pathetic little ferret!" She seemed to choke a little as the words tumbled out.

"You know what? I hate you too, _mudblood, _so much! I _hope _your boyfriend never stops hitting you, and I hope you get stabbed almost to death by him in a dark alley, then crucioed to oblivion like Longbottom's poor little mummy and daddy, and I hope what's left of your body is sacrificed to the Dark Lord as it's thrown into the edge of a volcano! I _hate _you, Hermione Granger." Draco snarled. Deep inside he felt a little bit of sorrow, just a tiny smidgen. He pushed it far away and set it on fire with the hatred that was suddenly very much so there.

""Oh, yea? Well I despise you Draco Malfoy. Everything I am, everything in my being, and everything that is now, or ever will be in my soul, is fully devoted to loathing you. If I could, I would use every single unforgivable curse on you, you awful, awful git!"

"Oh, and unforgivable curse? Little goodie-two-shoes, breaking a rule? Ha! That's a laugh. Real funny, mudblood."

"Don't call me mudblood, you bastard!"

"What else would I call someone who's parents are just disgusting pigs who roll around in the dirt all day?"

"The technical term would be piglet, moron, but no way in fucking hell are you calling me that!"

"What was that you said, _piglet?"_

_"_My name is Hermione Granger, ferret! Use it."

"Stop calling me ferret, and then we'll talk."

Granger turned to him and her face softened a little, and suddenly her rage filled expression morphed into one of concern and fragility.

"...Ron's still in the hospital wing because of you, you know."

"Good. He deserved it." Draco responded quickly, narrowing his brows and scrunching up his nose. Oh, how he loathed the ginger boy. He was just such a pest. At least Granger and Potter (to an extent) were remotely intelligent. Sometimes Draco thought a mouse probably has more brains than Ron Weasley. On top of being dim witted, he was also a complete and total jackass, if his behavior to his girlfriend was any indication.

"There's a chance he'll tell administration what you did and get you expelled, Malfoy."

"Why haven't you already turned me in, Granger?" Draco quirked an eyebrow. Normally, she was quite the tattle-tale.

"Because that's Ron's business not mine."

"If you stick by that philosophy chances no one will ever know that I beat the crap out of him. He's too proud to admit it."

"And how would you know that? Last time I checked you've never even really talked to Ron."

"Simple. That's the way almost _all _people are. If Pansy were to drag you into the hall and beat the crap out of you, would you tell anyone? Probably not. Your pride would get in the way."

"I suppose so... But there's still a possibility I'll report you even if he doesn't."

"But you won't." Draco spoke with certainty.

"I could."

"But you won't."

"What's keeping me from doing so then? Enlighten me with your wisdom, ferret."

"You just won't. That simple. And I told you to stop calling me that, piglet."

"Whatever, Malfoy."

* * *

It was the day before Christmas break. Hogwarts was decorated wall to wall with holiday decorations. The house elves were wearing little Santa hats, and the Gryffindor hearth was lined with cheerful stockings waiting patiently to be filled with goodies and Christmas cheer. A small smile graced Hermione's face as she set down next to Neville late that evening, watching the flame's dance.

"Ron's still in the hospital wing right, Hermione?" Neville inquired softly, as he threw a fleece blanket around both of them.

"Yes, yes, he is." Hermione bit her lower lip, her eyes flashed with worry.

"I'm surprised you're even worried about that git. I wouldn't be. Actually, I'm not, even now. And he hasn't even hurt me like he's hurt you." Neville whispered.

"You wouldn't understand... but sometimes you love someone so much that nothing else matters except their well being. Even if they're mean to you, hit you, touch you when you don't want to be touched... when you love someone enough, sometimes, even though you know you're being absolutely ridiculous., illogical, and irrational... somehow your love for them overshadows all else. Even when you should hate them. You just can't."

Hermione could see in his eyes that Neville didn't really comprehend very much of what she had said, but one of the things Hermione always liked about Neville was that even when he could never fully understand, he would at least try to.

"One day, you'll know what it feels like to really, truly love someone. And you'll remember this moment, and suddenly everything I just said will click in your mind and make absolute perfect sense. But until then... well, it's impossible for you to really figure it out."

Neville shrugged, "If you say so, Hermione."

Hermione just smiled softly at Neville. Yes, one day that boy would understand perfectly.

"Hey! Neville! Hermione!" Harry called from the portrait hole, just climbing in, somehow managing to clumsily balance four mugs of hot cocoa. Hermione grinned at him wholeheartedly. There were so benefits to having Ron gone, though Hermione would never admit it. For one, no one ever hurt her. Ever. It felt so nice, just to be safe.

It was no surprise to Hermione when Ginny came prancing through the portrait hole, on Harry's heels. They were so cute together.

Harry took a seat nearby Hermione, while Ginny curled up in the neighboring arm chair. Harry passed out the steaming cups of hot chocolate happily.

"Thanks, Harry!" Nevile licked his lips.

"Don't thank me, thank the house elves!" Harry smiled. Everyone laughed gently.

_Yes... it feels so nice to be safe._

Hermione basked in the glow of the hearth and the glorious comfort of friendship. She couldn't stop smiling. Her cheeks hurt. She hadn't smiled like this in forever.

* * *

Draco paced around the tower, alone with his thoughts. He was in a state of agonizing mental debate. He always went home for Christmas every year, always boasting about it to Potter and the kids that were unfortunate enough to have to stay behind during the holidays. He loved to be at home with his mother, unwrapping expensive gifts, decorating the tree, making Christmas cookies by her side with no help from the house elves (something he would never admit, even to his mother, that he secretly looked forward to every year). His father usually was away on business during the winter festivities, and that was normally Draco's favorite part.

This year he was torn between going home or staying at Hogwarts with all the rejects.

His paranoia was coming back more and more the more the clock ticked on, and the closer he got to arriving back at Malfoy Manor. Christmas break or not, it was his father's domain, and Lucius could show up at any time. Given the threatening nature of the letter he'd received months ago, and his father's temper, he hated to admit it but he was scared. Very scared. Even his home didn't feel safe when he pictured it in his mind.

Hogwarts was the safest place any wizard could be, rather they were hiding from their parents, or the Dark Lord himself. But Draco couldn't bare to leave his mother abandoned on Christmas eve. He hated to think of her kind, gentle features contorted in lonely sadness as she baked cookies and decked the halls with balls of holly, all by herself.

It would be a great risk to his own personal safety, but he had to go home and face Lucius at some point. There was no way around it. Even if by some miracle he managed to avoid ever going back to the manor again, he would always fret about his mother, and his father would no doubt find him eventually.

Draco sighed. It was scary, knowing that there were no other alternatives. But it was something he just had to accept.


	22. Like A Candle

Ginny set back by the open fire, sipping her hot coco. It felt so good to be home. There was nothing that she loved more than the feeling of stepping into her own house, stepping out of her uniform and into her sloppy pajamas. The Bureau was always warm and inviting, and the sweet aroma of cinnamon and delicious baked goods hung eternally in the air. The place practically glowed with joy and the quaint kind of happiness that one can only find at their own front door.

_There really is no place like home..._ Ginny smiled softly to herself. Ron sat next to her, and flashed her a familiar lopsided grin. The two shared a bond in the special way that only two siblings can. They had the kind of relationship either one was liable to switch from "I love you," to "I hate you," in one breath. Right now they were locked in a moment of comfy-cozy happiness.

Ginny was the closest to Ron out of all her siblings. They'd gotten even closer in recent years. Before, they had been only bound by blood, but bound by very little in the way of friendship. Then, quite suddenly, Ron had taken a turn for the better two years or so ago. After that, the two were less like siblings and more like best friends. He told her everything in confidence, and she relied on him for protection and brotherly love.

Ron was finally out of the hospital wing, much to Ginny's pleasure. She'd been worried sick. Somehow he'd managed to break his arm, get a black eye, lose a tooth, and gain a concussion all by "falling down the stairs". Hermione had been walking with him and he fell without warning down a steep flight of marble steps. At least, that was the story Hermione told the nurse, and Ron kept claiming that he simply couldn't remember. Ginny had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione's excuse was less than truthful, but she always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt.

Hermione and Harry were both visiting for the holiday. She couldn't be happier about that. Hermione slept in her room, while Harry slept in Ron's. Though Ginny loved the feeling of being at a constant sleepover with Hermione, a sizable part of her secretly wished it were Harry sharing her bed.

It was just before dinner, and everyone was gathered around the fireplace. It was all picture perfect, like a Norman Rockwell painting. Big smiles all around, hearty laughs, and fresh chocolate chip cookies crammed into every mouth.

It was beautiful. Ginny couldn't be happier.

* * *

Draco paced frantically in his room at The Manor. It was early evening on the first day of the holiday. Normally, around this time of year, he'd be down stairs helping his mother "deck the halls" but right now was not the time for Christmas cheer. In fact, as far as Draco was concerned, now was the time for insane amounts of panic and outrageous paranoia.

His father was never home for Christmas. He was always away on business, and that suited Draco just fine. It always seemed like Christmas was a much jollier event without his tyrant of a father around. To Lucious everyday was just another day to celebrate Voldemort in all his gruesome glory.

This Christmas was different though. Draco could feel doom on the horizon in his very bones. His father wasn't here, just like always... but Draco's keen instincts would not allow him the bliss of naivety. He was coming, without a doubt. He was coming to beat Draco, he was coming to punish him for his disobedience... Draco knew it deep inside his shadow of a heart.

Tears pricked in Draco's eyes, and a few dared to cascade down his ghostly pale cheeks. He was terrified, absolutely scared shitless. He'd been punished by his father before but never like this. He'd never done something as blatantly defiant as this.

Not only had he interacted with Granger, an overwhelmingly bold act of defiance in the first place, but he'd _protected_ her. At the time that wasn't what he'd meant to do, but that would be exactly how his father would see it. There was a halfway decent chance that his father would strangle him. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat and let out a screeching cry, low and high pitched, like that of a dying animal.

He just wanted to survive. He wanted to live. He wanted to feel his shallow pulse, and breathe in, and exhale again. In that moment, he was consumed with the burning desire to simply live on and face another grueling, lonely sunrise.

But he knew that his father was likely to bury him in an unmarked grave, alongside Patches.

There was no doubt in Draco's mind that his father knew everything. His father was the supreme force that guided Draco's every step, and saw with eyes that no one else could see. Every second since he'd received that letter his skin had crawled and itched like little beetles squirmed underneath his skin. It drove him mad.

He'd let his guard down for one little second, and it would be his ruin. His demise. He had no doubts... Lucious had been watching. He was always, always watching... Draco felt like his eyes were about to pop out from their sockets.

* * *

Ginny was the only one sitting at the hearth now. The rest of her family, along with the house guests, had long since gone to bed. She'd promised her mom that she would follow suit by midnight, but promises to mothers often times are broken. At least the little ones are, anyway.

Ginny gazed into the fire, hypnotized by the flame. It was glorious and seemed dance like twirling ribbon, flaring out in a golden frenzy. Even fires were better when sitting inside one's own home.

She sighed and allowed her eye lids to droop lazily. She felt drowsy, but stubbornly refused to let the moment slip away into the monotony of sleep. Moments like these only came about every so often, and only a fool would let them go so easily.

She snapped her head around at the familiar sound of the squeaky stars. She flashed a lazy smile when she recognized the silhouette of Ron reflected on the floorboards.

"Hey, Ron," Ginny yawned a greeting.

"Hello, Ginny." Ron replied, his tone strangely cold.

"What's wrong? You seem a little off."

Ron shrugged, but his eyes glinted with a peculiar light that shone like darkness.

"Oh... I just have a pest that I need to take care of."

"Dad already took care of the mice problem last week, remember?"

"...Not that kind of pest, my dear Ginny."

_Yes, something is definitely off with him tonight..._

Ginny watched with questioning doe-eyes as Ron pulled his wand nonchalantly out of his robe pocket, and took aim at her. Ginny giggled nervously.

"...Put that away, Ron. Wands aren't toys."

"Oh, I'm well aware, Weaselette." Ron smirked at her, showing off all his perfectly white teeth. They bore a striking resemblance to fangs in that moment. Ginny quirked an eyebrow. Nobody but the Slytherins ever used that annoying brand of name-calling.

"Oh, sweet innocent little Ginny... it's a shame really. It always seems that you end up but a pawn in every scheme. Nothing but something to be sacrificed... It's really a shame. I was hoping that I could put off this little scene for a few more months, and wait for the plan to be a bit farther along... but when opportunity comes knocking only a fool rejects it. It's a bit out of order, but it's time to amp up this little game we play... it's time to sacrifice a few pawns, if you catch my meaning..."

"Ron... what are you talking about? I don't understand! What the hell is going on?" Ginny backed away frantically, scrambling towards the hearth on her hands and knees. Ron trailed after her, mirroring her in his steps, scrambling toward her. His boot was only an inch away. Without warning he put his foot gently on her chest, standing on her, holding her down with ease.

"Ron! What are you doing? RON!" Ginny squirmed and began to scream.

"Hmm... this simply won't due. I need a much louder scream to wake up the family, darling sister. I guess, I'll just have to step up my game a little bit, hm?"

Abruptly he kicked her headfirst into the fire, her hair catching flame, matching perfectly with her already fiery hair.

She let out an incredibly shriek, loud enough to wake the entirety of Hogwarts. She could hear noises and thuds from other rooms as her family rouse frantically. She screamed loudly. Ron crouched beneath her and grabbed her face, with a firm and brutal grip. He shoved her entire head into the fire, and watched as she shrieked with her very lips melted. She cried out relentlessly and they could both hear people rushing down the stair. Her face had gone black with burns, and her hair had long ago fallen to ash. Bone met fire as skin melted away with ease. The pain was blinding and hot and all consuming, like the flames that made her very skull into ash. Her final scream echoed around the house, around the world, like a gunshot. The pain was everywhere... and then she was gone. Like the flame of a flickering candle, snuffed out by the cruel wind of death.


	23. Always Smiling

**Warning: VERY explicit content. High level of graphic violence (you know it has to be pretty bad if even I acknowledge that it's only for mature readers. Read on if you dare).**

Draco's left hand wouldn't stop twitching as he curled up at the foot of his bed, feeling like a pathetic shell of a man. It was a nervous habit that had been established deep within him since he was a boy. It only occurred at the most dire of times. His grey eyes were tinted red from all the tears and panic. His icy heart was beating like a drum, sending his blood into a frenzied march of war as blood cell attacked blood cell and every breath of oxygen pierced his fragile lungs like daggers on grocery bags. This fear was primal and grotesque, like a dying animal. Draco had never been closer to the darkness than in that moment of sheer and utter terror, that lingered on and on into the night. He was unraveled at the seams, a ghost of the superior and intimidating wizard he once was.

Draco wished for nothing but to retreat into the numb embrace of apathy, yet the dismal peace in which he constantly found his sanctuary never came. There was no comfort to be found. Only the all consuming agony of anticipation. Every time he opened his eyes he thought he saw Lucious and his sadistic smile, only to realize he saw nothing more than empty space. It was more than enough to drive a man insane.

There was a soft rapping against the elegantly carved wooden door, "Draco?"

At first Draco continued his seemingly eternal silence, afraid to open his mouth for fear that he would be unable to contain the sobs.

"Draco, honey, can I come in? I brought cookies! They're shortbread, your favorite! I made them myself!"

No reply.

"Come on, sweetheart. Do you really want all my hard work to go to waste? I spent all day slaving with the house-elves behind a hot oven, just to make you these cookies."

Draco felt a twinge of guilt in his heart. It was a brand of compassion that only his mother could rise in his heart.

"...Come in." Draco wiped his eyes furiously. He didn't want his mother to see him cry.

Without need for anymore encouragement, Narcissa threw open the door and strode with beautiful grace into his room. The way she moved never ceased to amaze him. It seemed like every step was part of an elegant dance. She padded across the hardwood floor with the daintiness of a fairy and the poise of a ballerina. It was magical. Something about it never failed to put a smile on his face. This time was no different.

She placed her plate of cookies on the top of his dresser, standing on tip-toe to reach to top shelf. She was petite, like a forest sprite.

"Draco, honey... What's wrong?" She cooed like a mother hen to a newborn chick full of concern. She plopped down, light as a feather, onto the edge of his bed and stroked his blond hair soothingly.

"...Father...He's coming home tonight isn't he?"

"If he is then he hasn't told me anything... but I doubt it. He's off on his secret mission for the Dark Lord, darling. The same one he's been working on for the last two years... I see no reason why he'd be home tonight of all nights. He was never one for Christmas cheer, so it's not as though this time of year would have any significance."

"...Okay, Mum." Draco croaked out of his swollen throat.

"...Listen, darling. I know your father hasn't always been exactly kind to you. I know you have all the reasons in the world to fear him, but it's not really necessary... he's just a good man that's done some bad things. Still does them actually. But that doesn't make him a bad man... Forgiveness. That's the name of the game. Stop fearing him for all the stuff he's done, and start loving him for all that he's given you... it makes living with him much easier, I assure you."

Draco stared at his mother and shook his head. She was so naive... she was so full of love that even when she knew someone deserved to be hated to the fullest extent of the human capacity, she couldn't bring herself to. In her mind, every problem could be solved through love and forgiveness. It was beautiful ideology, but a dangerous one.

"...Mum, Dad's going to kill me tonight." Draco stuttered.

"Why on earth would he do that? Draco, your father would never kill his own flesh and blood! That goes against the very essence of what it means to be human!" Narcissa gazed at him wide-eyed, and appalled.

Narcissa had seen every bruise on Draco's battered body as a child, and knew every little gruesome secret that his family had to offer. It amazed Draco that she could still hold on to such a vast amount of her innocence, when the corrupt truth was spelled out right in front of her. His father didn't care who took the bullet. If they were getting in his way, then he would kill without hesitation, regardless of any ties. He was a predator hiding underneath the guise of humanity... but Narcissa was far too naive to make that connection.

Draco sighed, once more.

"Mum... I defied father. Seriously, defied him. There's no doubt in my mind he will kill me."

"I doubt it! He loves you."

"HE LOVES NO ONE!" Draco shouted suddenly.

Narcissa looked down into her lap, gazing at her folded hands. Draco heard sniffling from behind the curtain of black hair as tears cascaded down his mother's pale cheeks, creating wet spots on her black dress.

"Mum... I'm sorry! He loves you, of course!" Draco lied through his teeth. He knew at the very core of his being that his father felt nothing for anyone. Nothing. Draco continued, "He just doesn't love me... Don't you see?"

Draco reached under his mother's chin and cupped her face in his hands, rolling his thumb over her tears to wipe them away. Yes, Draco loved his mother more than anything.

His mother opened her mouth as though she were about to reply, but was interrupted by the jarring sound of Draco's bedroom door being violently pried open and slammed against the wall. Standing in the doorway was none other than Lucious Malfoy, decked in black head to toe, smiling with the joy of a gleeful predator. His skin was paler than the freshly fallen snow on the front lawn, and his blond hair trailed down his back gleaming like platinum from the hallway's bright light.

"Hello, Narcissa... Hello, son," he narrowed his eyes in Draco's direction. They were the same exact shade of grey as his son's.

"Lucious! Welcome home! But this is very unexpected... I thought you were still working on the Dark Lord's mission!" Narcissa exclaimed, abruptly jubilant. She was like a dog rejoicing in the long awaited return of her master.

"I still am... but there's no law against coming home once in a while to check up on the family." Even Narcissa could pick up on the peculiar tone of his voice.

"Well, that's great!" Narcissa ignored her instincts, instead focusing on the happiness of her husband's homecoming, "Will you be here for Christmas, darling?"

Lucious padded forward, slinking through the room like a jaguar on the prowl, and spoke in a smooth whisper with a voice made of the finest silk.

"I think not. I only will be here for a few short minutes, actually. I have some business to attend to elsewhere. Draco, why don't you go and fetch me some scotch?"

Draco scrambled off the bed, complying as quickly as a common house elf. He all but ran out the door. He glanced back to see his father holding Narcissa's hand gently as he kissed her knuckle. His mom giggled like a school girl.

He dashed off to the wine cellar, in a frenzied search for scotch. Anything to make his father even a little merciful.

It took him close to twenty minutes, but he finally found a 1782 bottle of scotch. He grabbed it hurriedly and rushed back to his room. He was back in less than five minutes, an impressive feat when traveling through a huge manor.

As he rushed back through the door of his bedroom, scotch in hand, the air was thicker than blood. It was stagnant and smelt of primal fear, and anxiety. Draco glanced nervously around the room only to be confronted with his worst nightmare.

Laying on his bed was 85% of a woman. She wore a black, blood soaked dress. Her fingernails were painted dark green, and on her feet were a pair of expensive stiletto heals. Draco's mouth hung open and an uncontrollable wail echoed through the room as he glanced up to the neck. There was blood everywhere, dripping down, trickling all over the body. Gruesome and red like the most forbidden wine. The neck abruptly cut off turning into nothing but a bloody stump.

"Ah, finally, my scotch has arrived. Took you long enough, son."

Draco whirled around to see the singly most horrifying scene in all of wizarding history. His father gripped in one hand a sword, the same emerald plated sword that Draco's mother had bought him for his fourteenth birthday, the very same sword that had been mounted above his dresser for years. It's blade was stained red.

In his other hand his blood soaked fingers latched onto a mass of ebony hair, matted with sticky red liquid. The trail of hair ended at the base of the scalp, attaching to the head of a formally beautiful woman. Narcissa's decapitated head stared back at Draco with vacant doe eyes, and a slack jaw that still contorted into a lopsided smile. She never stopped smiling. Never.

There were no words that could describe the pain in Draco's heart as his entire body shook and heaving sobs racked his frame.

Lucious smirked.

"Believe it or not, this is the second time I've killed in one hour! First, Ginerva Weasley, then darling Narcissa... Oh, how very exciting, don't you think? It certainly offered quite the thrill. I burnt her alive. You should have been there, her screams were simply delightful. But that wasn't even the main event! Her entirely family came down to see the carnage! The looks on their faces... and don't even get me started on dear, sweet Hermione's expression. It was priceless. And now, you put the icing on the cake... if you could only see yourself right now, Draco. You look simply divine in your anguish. Now, pour me a glass of scotch, and prepare to die."

**Don't forget to review :). Sorry, for the disturbing content but I assure you it's all part of the plot... which will probably only get more amazing. Just saying.**


	24. Peace

**Hi, everyone! So, this is the moment that I've been **planning** since the beginning. This is a big chapter for me, and I'd like to thank all of you for being here to experience it with me. Anyway, I have a really special request... This is a really important chapter, and these scenes in my mind were what inspired everything else that happened before this moment, and everything that will happen in future chapters. This is what I've been working towards since the beginning, and the scenes that will set up everything afterwards... so, obviously this is very special to me.**

**I would really, really like to his 450 reviews. I'm currently at 427. I would really appreciate it if EVERYONE would review, every single person that reads this, even if you feel like your input doesn't make a difference to me, it really does. If you criticize me or correct me then I try my best to fix it or take your suggestions into consideration (not to say that I do exactly what every reader wants, it's still my story), and when I get compliments I take them to heart and they really inspire me to keep going. It would mean a lot to break 450 (my goal review wise is to hit 500 someday, a feat I've never accomplished), and every review counts. Thanks, to everyone that's ever reviewed. It means more than you know, seriously. **

**Love,**

**ICU**

In that moment Draco was a child. Fumbling in his confidence, with weak knees, and massive amounts of tears streaming from his grey eyes. He was a mere toddler, calling out for his mother, longing for her soothing touch. He was a but a lamb in front of the butcher knife, with no one to protect him for the slaughter.

In that moment Draco was a man. He stared into the viper like eyes of a hardened killer, and in his gut he knew that he would either kill or be killed. He stood up to his full height, tall and lethal, and the very core of his being screamed out for vengeful justice. He was a snake, eyeing his prey, preparing to strike.

In that moment Draco was overwhelmed by the emotional fire in his heart. He was alive. Bent and broken, and just as twisted as he'd always been, but he was _alive._ No apathy, no mask, no thought. Just sickeningly pure emotion. It consumed him, and threatened to wreck his very being as it thundered through every crevice of his soul. It felt like he'd been struck by lightning, as every little spark of electricity exploded inside of him like fireworks. It was strangely beautiful, in a bittersweet way. Draco had never felt more at one with the world, with life itself. With the suffering, and joy, and rage of it all. It was dazzling, awe-inspiring, and it broke him down bit by bit. It killed him on the inside, but it was overwhelmingly wonderful just to _feel_. It was horrid, it was absolutely wretched. But the pain let him know that there was life somewhere, deep inside of him.

He stared at his father with a body that shook and legs that could barely stand. Lucious smirked, showing his perfect white teeth, with not even an ounce of compassion on his murderous face. He stood up, sword in hand, and casually strode up to his son. He stopped only when he was practically toe to toe with Draco. He raised the sword to neck level.

"Any last words, _son?"_

"... Just tell me why, father. Why are you doing this? Why, damn it?" Draco sobbed.

"For the Dark Lord's favor, of course, my boy." Lucious answered.

"SINCE WHEN DID THE DARK LORD WANT MUM DEAD?" Draco shouted.

"Oh, that. He didn't. That was just for fun," Lucious licked his lips and grinned evilly, "the real mission was obvious all along. Destroy Harry Potter. Everything else was simply a detour, a little piece of the puzzle."

"What the hell are you talking about? You're so sick. So damn sick." Draco sobbed.

"Allow me to explain. I'll give you the gift of understanding the prelude to your own death. Se how merciful I am, son? Not everyone gets this kind of special treatment, you know.

It all started two years ago... it was in the summer time. Ronald Weasley was out at Diagon Alley alone... his family was off running errands and he was simply wandering through the alley. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and we were in the right place at the right time. We took him. He never saw it coming. It was effortless. It would be foolish to simply kill him, as this situation offered so many opportunities to get at Potter. The Dark Lord devised an ingenious plan. His close personal circle created a spell... it works very similarly to polyjuice potion, but it never wears off. Basically, all I had to do was drink a goblet of Weasley's blood that had been enchanted to give me the ability to turn into a perfect copy of him at will. I would never transform back to my original self unless I so willed it. I could potentially disguise myself for years and no one would be the wiser.

My mission was simple. Take Hermione Granger out of commission. With Weasley already captured, Granger was the only crutch Potter would have once I eventually revealed myself. We couldn't simply kill her. We wanted to wait for just the right moment to end her life, just as Potter was about to enter battle with us... imagine the look on his face if I suddenly revealed myself _and _killed Granger all in one moment. It would be incredible. He would be devastated so much so that he would fall easily to our Lord.

Of course, we kept Weasley alive, as insurance. If by some miracle Potter managed to raise his pathetic self off the floor and fight, we could simply threaten to kill the real Ronald Weasley. He was a trump card. Still is actually. He's rotting somewhere in a dungeon, but he's still very much so alive. Just in case.

So, I assumed my role as Ronald Weasley and I broke Hermione Granger from the inside out. I beat her, I raped her, I killed her very soul. I made her a useless, pathetic shell of a being, and of absolutely no use to Potter. I enjoyed every minute of it... despite her loathsome blood she has a surprisingly nice body... Such a fun little toy. Her scream was always so pitiful and delightful, like music to my ears.

Today, I killed Ginny Weasley. It was actually quite a shame. After this whole charade I was hoping to take her as slave and make her into a beautiful little toy... she would have been quite good at it, I believe. But I had to kill her, I burnt her alive... her shrieks were simply wonderful. I was ordered to by the Dark Lord. He wants Harry Potter to be devastated by the death of his lover... by the look on his face I'd say he was about to kill himself. I only saw it for but a moment before I apparated away and came back to the Manor. They still have not a clue that it was actually I, Lucious Malfoy, and not their dear, sweet, little Ronald. Oh, the irony. The ultimate betrayal. It was simply divine. Killing your mother, well, that was merely for my own entertainment.

And killing you, well, I can't allow you to fraternize with Granger! It could ruin her misery! It would be a waste of my diligence for her to fall in love with you. I doubt it's progressed that far yet, but I take no chances. No exceptions, even for my own son. Does that answer all your questions, boy? Can we begin now?" Lucious smiled viciously.

Without warning, Draco abruptly lifted his leg, and kicked straight up as hard as he possibly could. His boot made severe contact with Lucious's groin.

"YOU LITTLE BITCH! I'LL KILL YOU!" Lucious shrieked as he tumbled to the floor, holding onto his manhood like he was afraid it might fall off.

Draco pulled out his wand and took aim at his father's head.

"Crucio! CRUCIO, CRUCIO, CRUCIO!" Draco shouted.

In an instant Lucious was screaming, crying like a sniveling little bitch. Draco's lips pursed in a tight line caught somewhere between horrendous sorrow and devilish satisfaction. It was time for justice. Justice for Patches, justice for himself, justice for Hermione, and justice for his dear mother. Lucious deserved every minute of it. Every little instant of pain.

After what felt like an eternity, Draco allowed for mercy. He all but stabbed his wand into his father's throat and whispered venomously into the ear of the murderer,

"_Avada Kedavara, _you loathsome bastard."

Draco felt peace resonate solemnly through his entire being as he watched his father die. It was incredible.

**Please, don't forget to review.**


	25. Malfoy

Draco clutched his legs tightly to his body, his chin resting in the valley of his knees. He rocked back and forth, sitting next to his mother's freshly decapitated body. He struggled in vain not to look at her bloody stump of neck, or glance around the room to see her gruesomely mangled head that sat across the room, staining the white Persian rug with its sickening crimson. Tears streamed endlessly down his ashen cheeks. His pulse beat steadily in his chest as emotion melted the snow that encased his fragile heart. It felt like every new intake of breath was a battle to be won, like every moment he lived on was something he had to fight his own self for.

His mind was blank. Subconsciously, he reached out to touch his mother's stiff arm. He stroked her blood splattered wrist, and hummed a sweet lullaby that she had sung to him once upon a time. He kept messing up the melody, without her voice there to guide him. His tears felt warm and moist on his stone cold countenance. He wiped them away furiously, out of habit. His late father's voice echoed in his mind: _"Malfoys do not cry!"_

He let his hand fall at the memory of his father's words. He let the tears dance down his wan and waxy face without protest. He was no longer a Malfoy. He ripped the wretched name off of his soul, and it fell off him like a ragged and wretched cloak. He was most definitely not a Malfoy. A Malfoy was someone like his father. For the longest time, he'd seen himself as but a carbon copy of his father. He had thought of himself for many years as but a duplicate of Lucius, someone doomed to follow the same fate. His destiny had been sealed from the first beating by his father's hand. He was slated to be a Malfoy, and that was all god wrote. His blood had thrown him into the world of death and violence that had been his cruel home for the entirety of his childhood. He had never dared to question this path that he was doomed to travel. He was a Malfoy, and it was the path that all Malfoy men were groomed to follow.

Draco glanced over to his mother's body and shuddered, a fresh wave of sweltering tears falling from his stormy silver eyes. His chest heaved violently. At the sight of her gruesome decapitated neck he shut his eyes as tightly as he could. He shook his head as hard as he could, trying to erase the image that seared behind closed eyes.

He dared to open his eyes and take a good, long, anguished look at the body. He let out a long wail, similar to that of a dying animal. He whirled around, still mid growl, with eyes wide open and glared piercingly at his father's corpse. Malfoy men killed heartlessly.

Hermione's face flashed in his mind. The sound of Lucius's back hand against her rosy cheeks resonated in his ears. In that moment, he couldn't help but compare Hermione to his mother. Another innocent who had suffered in the name of his father's cruelty. Just another kind woman beaten down by the ruthless hand of Lucius.

He thought of all the hatred that he had felt towards her, all the loathing. He thought of all the times that he had hurt her, threatened her, barely restrained himself from striking her down... There was a sizable knot of guilt and self directed resentment festering in his stomach. He could have been protecting her all these years, but instead he had been her greatest enemy. Just another abusive hand, despite all that she already suffered from "Ron". He thought of Lucius's brutality towards Narcissa, and couldn't help but relate their situation to his own. Hermione was nothing but an innocent young woman and he had sadistically torn her apart again and again. Just like Lucius.

He glared daggers at the corpse across the room. Lucius's duplicate was the last thing that he wanted to be. He disowned the Malfoy name and left it in a trail of dust as he got up off the ground, tears still cascading down his pale face. He manage to walk shakily over to where his mother's head rested at Lucius's feet. It took all his emotional strength to gingerly pick up the head, and clutch it tenderly to his chest. Blood soaked his elegant robes wherever the head touched, but Draco didn't care. He hummed the same sweet lullaby as he cradled the head into his body, stroking her hair with one hand. His footsteps echoed around the lifeless room as he walked back to his mother's dismembered body. He gently placed the head atop the bloody neck. Narcissa's eyes were still wide open, and her grey eyes stared vacantly up at Draco. One of his own tears dripped onto her cheek, giving her the appearance of a crying angle. He wiped the tear away with his thumb, and brushed his fingers over her lids in one fluid motion. With her eyes closed, it was almost as though she were peacefully sleeping. He grabbed a fleece blanket off his bed and spread it over her, making sure to hide the gash at her neck.

Without another moment of hesitation, and tears still flowing heavily from his silver eyes, he flew out the door. He bounded away from the Manor, and with every step he took he distanced himself more and more from the Malfoy legacy.

**I know it's short. I did it intentionally short. I wanted this to have a profound impact, and sometimes the biggest impacts are also the briefest.**


	26. Everything Falls Apart

It was like time had stopped. There were no words, nothing that could ever come close to conveying this all-consuming grief. It swept through Hermione's mind like a massive hurricane, destroying everything in its wake. The pain that cried out from the deepest corners of her being made everything else that she'd ever suffered seem silly. Insignificant, petty, little bugs on the windshield of life. Nothing but minor annoyances.

Ginny was dead. Her beautiful, copper hair converted to ash and her pale skin melted away into a flaming abyss. Sweet, little Ginny, was now lying in the hearth, a pile of bones and tar. It was so hard to will her lips to move, to bid her blood to run. It was so difficult just to breathe. It was like Hermione's mind had turned into mush, just as dead as her friend.

There were no words, only tears.

Ministry workers had stormed the place within minutes of Ginny's death. It felt like a strange violation, even though Hermione knew they were just doing their job. It just felt so wrong, like a huge invasion of the traditional privacy of mourning. The Weasley family and company hadn't even been allowed an hour of merciful grief before the Ministry swarmed the place. Ginny's father had called in immediately, but he'd never expected that they'd be so prompt.

Molly Weasley was sobbing hysterically. She couldn't be roused from her sorrow. No one even tried. There was no point.

Fleur was sobbing in the corner, clinging onto Bill's broad chest tightly, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his skin. Bill just looked pissed. His face was contorted into boiling hot rage, but tears flowed down his cheeks just the same. Fred and George clutched onto each other like two halves of the same circle. Only they could see the other's expression, their feelings a mystery to everyone but each other. Hermione was almost positive both of them wore similar faces, twin mirrors of agony.

Harry's eyes were red and glistened in the light, the windows to his tortured soul. His lips were tightly pursed and it was so bluntly obvious that he was trying not to break down. He was putting on the brave but tearful face of the boy who lived. A worshiped hero wasn't supposed to cry, even when his girlfriend was dead. He was trying to be strong for everyone else.

Hermione felt so lost… her best friend was dead, and her boyfriend was a senseless murderer. Everything had fallen apart in just one night, one horrid, sickening night. Hermione had known for a long time that Ron was capable of many bad things, but never in her wildest dreams had she ever fathomed that he could do something so heinous. He had spilled the blood of his own kin, his own little sister. He'd murdered her simply for the thrill; in sheer cold blood. Reality was a cold, cruel mistress.

It had all the components of your typical dateline NBC special, minus Chris Hansen, and plus the Ministry of Magic. A woman with extremely bony fingers grabbed onto Hermione's shoulder from behind. Hermione couldn't help but jump.

"Pardon me, Ms. Granger, but could I speak to you for a few moments alone?"

Hermione simply nodded, before obediently fallowing the women up the stairs, trailing behind her like a ghost. The women turned the knob on the first door she saw and barged in like she owned the place. Once inside, Hermione couldn't keep from sobbing.

Everything in the room reminded her of Ginny. The air still hung with her familiar aroma. She was the subtle smell of lilac and vanilla. The haunting scent lingered in Hermione's nostrils so bitter-sweet. Why, why did the investigator have to choose this room of all the rooms in the Bureau? Life was so cruel.

"First of all, I'd like to sincerely offer my condolences. You have no idea how much I wish I could be visiting for a more pleasant occasion… but the best thing we can do for you and Ginerva now is figure out who did this and make sure that justice finds them."

_They didn't already know? _Hermione thought to herself.

"Ron." The name caught in Hermione's throat and tasted like bile to her tongue.

"Um… what?"

"We already know who did it. It was Ronald. We all saw clear as day… he shoved her into the fire and burned her alive, then apparated away. He disappeared into thin air."

"Please, give us as many details as you can."

"Don't you already have them all? Mr. Weasley called you and you saw the body! Can't you just wrap up and be on your way? Leave us to grieve? That would be lovely, thank you very much!"

"Ms. Granger, believe me when I say we want nothing more ourselves, but it simply can't be done. I'm sure that you, Mr. Potter, and the Weasley family would all agree that you want every possible measure to be taken to allow Ginny Weasley to rest in peace. That means we have to make sure that we have all the details and collect sufficient evidence, so we can ensure that we're going after the right person and that they're prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. In order to do that we have to get the full story… please, do your best to understand." The investigator took a soft, soothing tone, her voice dripping with sweet honey. It made Hermione want to vomit. There was nothing she hated more than being patronized. Big, plastic smiles and over exaggerated words of comfort... They just reaffirmed her belief that the Ministry workers had no idea how she felt and no compassion for the victims of this crime.

"You want more information, huh? So, I went to bed early and Ginny told me that she'd be up in a little bit… she was happy… so, damn happy! She just sipped her goddamn hot chocolate, ate her goddamn cookie and sat all cozy by the fire… she was smiling. It was the lopsided, ear to ear, wonderfully crooked smile that could only belong to her. Then, the next thing I knew, I was woken from my peaceful sleep by the sound of her ear splitting screams. It was horrific and loud and like nothing you've ever heard. It was full of betrayal, fear, and suffering. It sang the kind of unearthly pain that no human being deserves to experience. The shrieking was endless torture and I just couldn't get my legs to run fast enough. I got to the bottom of the stairs just in time to hear the final stillness of silence. The silence was terrifying, even more painful to my ears than the shrieks of agony. I stood next to her family and Harry, and I saw her body burnt to a crisp, half of it still in the fire, looking like burnt char coal. Her legs still flailed in the air for a moment more before they ceased their motion and her soul floated away on a puff of smoke, as her body rotted in ashes! I saw _him_, Ronald Weasley standing over her, smiling sadistically. His freckled face was smeared with ash and blood and a disturbing joy danced behind his eyes as he looked into each of our faces in turn. He laughed as tears fell from our eyes, and then he apparated away to Merlin knows where! MY BOYFRIEND KILLED HIS LITTLE SISTER! IS THAT ENOUGH INFORMATION FOR YOU?" Hermione shouted relentlessly. She glared at the investigator as she scribbled away on her stupid little notepad and nodded her head. Without a word Hermione reached over, snatched the notepad away and threw it under her slipper-clad foot. She stamped on it like it was a piece of trash on the highway.

"Ms. Granger, please, I understand your loss but-!"

"UNDERSTAND MY LOSS? LIKE YOU EVEN CARE! YOU NEVER MET GINNY! YOU NEVER SAID ONE WORD TO HER! YOU DIDN'T HEAR THE SCREAMS! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO WATCH THAT FINAL MOMENT AND BE UNABLE TO DO ANYTHING BUT HOPELESSLY WATCH AS YOUR BOYFRIEND INCINERATES YOUR BEST FRIEND!" Hermione screamed, as fresh tears streamed down her face.

"I can't say that I have. But please, keep in mind that I'm just trying to bring that bad man to justice… I want Ginny to rest in peace and I want some sense of security for those left behind. You're not alone."

"WHAT IF I DON'T WANT JUSTICE, HUH?"

"What are talking about?"

"WHAT IF I JUST WANT HIM TO LIVE ON? WHAT IF I LOVE BOTH THE KILLER AND THE VICTIM? WHAT IF ALL I WANT IS FOR HIM TO GO FREE AND ALL OF THIS TO END RIGHT HERE?"

The investigator met Hermione's eyes once, and shook her head in pity. Without another word the investigator pried her notes away from Hermione's dead-weight foot and left Hermione all alone in Ginny's bedroom, closing the door behind her mercifully softly.

Hermione couldn't stop crying.

* * *

Hermione laid awake in the girl's dormitory of the Gryffindor tower, staring up at the ceiling. She hadn't left since she'd arrived, not even to eat or drink. Initially she would make infrequent trips to the restroom but after almost a week without nourishment or fluids those needs gradually faded away before vanishing all together. She was living skeleton. She stayed under the covers in Ginny's bed. It still smelled vaguely of Ginny. It comforted Hermione, and gave her the illusion of still being close to her friend. When she'd first arrived, there was still a leftover strand of brilliant copper hair on the pillowcase. The moment she saw it, she burst into tears.

That was on Tuesday. It was Sunday now. It was only one more week until school started again and the other students came back to Hogwarts. Hermione felt like vomiting when she thought of having to readjust to daily life again. It hurt to think that life could simply continue going on after Ginny. Somehow, she'd expected the world to stop spinning, the laws of time to be rendered ineffective… but obviously that wasn't going to happen.

After the horrendous murder, Dumbledore had insisted that Harry, the twins, and Hermione come to Hogwarts immediately. It was the safest place in the wizarding world after all. There was much speculation that this was all some kind of plot of Voldemort's, and that Harry and Hermione were likely his next targets. In her heart, and her mind, Hermione doubted that. It was Ron, not Voldemort or a random death eater that pulled the trigger on Ginny, but she wasn't about to put up a fight. There was no point in it. If it brought other people comfort to know she was undoubtedly safe and sound, then so be it. Why increase the fear and misery that was already all about?

Dumbledore had invited the entire Weasley clan to find sanctuary at Hogwarts, but only the twins, and the remainder of the Golden Trio accepted his offer. Actually, they were pretty much forced to accept it by Molly and Arthur. The Weasley parents wanted all of them one-hundred-percent secure. They didn't care about themselves as much… they chose to stay with the Order of The Phoenix. They tried to convince Bill and Fleur to go to Hogwarts, but they couldn't force them to. They were both legal adults after all.

Hermione stayed, curled up under Ginny's blankets, unmoving, and unblinking. She was caught somewhere between hellish pain and calm, but equally hellish numb. She was a shriveled up shell of a woman. Light streamed in from the open window, which was tinted with an ungodly amount of frost. The iron headboard creaked every time she moved a muscle, which wasn't often. The more time passed the less the headboard groaned, as Hermione's movements came less and less frequently.

There was a distinct rapping at the window. Hermione moaned deeply from her dry, achy throat, her first sound in days. Just glancing to the frosted window pane took a tremendous amount of energy. She saw an owl, hovering outside, pecking feverishly. On about the twenty-fifth vicious attack of the window (which became more and more violent), Hermione slowly stumbled her way out of bed and unlocked the latch. The owl did the rest on his own, pushing his way in, leaving the window ajar.

He dropped the Sunday edition of the _Daily Prophet _rather rudely, letting the pages scatter every which way on the floor, like bird cage liner.

The owl glared at Hermione impatiently, clutching it's talons in and out, expecting a tip.

"I don't have any money for you. Get out." Hermione croaked, falling to her knees, lacking the energy to stand on her own two feet. The owl put on a very huffy face and shot Hermione one final dirty look before flying back out the window.

She hesitantly picked up one of the miscellaneous pages and gazed at it with disinterest for a moment, before she saw the outrageously shocking headline.

**_MALFOY FAMILY FOUND DEAD!_**

She gasped audibly. _No… Not Malfoy too…_ Hermione thought. She continued reading, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. She dreaded the thought of having to stare at the empty seat in Arithmacy class, with his absence being the heaviest presence in the room.

_Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were both found dead in their home early in the morning on December 20th. by one of their many maids. Both corpses were discovered partially decomposed, leading investigators to believe that they have been dead for several days already. The Ministry investigators suspect foul play. Narcissa Malfoy's body was found decapitated and covered in blood, while Lucius Malfoy's body had virtually no obvious damage to it, indicating the possible use of a killing curse._

_Their son, Draco Malfoy, is the primary suspect in both of these killings. His body was nowhere to be found, in fact, no trace of a dead or alive Draco Malfoy was discovered anywhere near the Manor. Investigators declined to comment on the young Malfoy at this time, except to inform the public to be on the lookout. He is a tall, blond young man, and only sixteen. He has grey eyes and pale skin. A sketch of him can be found on page 3. _

_If you have any information, the investigators urge you to contact the Ministry immediately. If you see Draco Malfoy (or think you do), whatever you do, do not approach him. He is a dangerous criminal and obviously very violent. Do not attempt to capture or speak with him on your own, but if you spot him do not hesitate to contact the Ministry of Magic. _

Hermione's eyes went wide with shock. She'd always known that Draco Malfoy was a lot of things… but a murderer? That was another story all together. He had always been a pain in the ass, a downright bully, and a sadistic bastard to boot… but there had been moments when she'd seen him show tiny hints of a soul, and subtle and often times still somewhat evil brands of kindness. She was aghast. Draco Malfoy… a killer… it simply couldn't be.

_Why does everything have to fall apart at once?_ A single tear streaked down Hermione's cheek as she buried her face in the newspaper.

**Don't forget to review! Thanks for all the awesome reviews on last chapter. I love you all! I live for reviews!**


	27. Get Out

**Hey, everybody! ICU here, with a brand new chapter. Sorry it took so long, I've been grounded. I'm in the process of editing a few chapters. At this point only "Malfoy" and "Spider" have been edited, but I intend to do a large scale edit as soon as possible. I was going to finish editing and then make a new chapter, but then I weighed the two against each other and I realized that my loyal fanbase would probably be much more excited about an update than a large scale edit. So, here we go.**

This was it. The first day of the rest of Hermione's life. She stared at her image in the mirror. There were no more bruises. It was a bittersweet feeling to see her milky white skin so perfect. It was so right to be unmarred, and yet so wrong. The bruises had healed because the hand that had delivered them was gone. Ron was gone. Something deep within called out for him, the old him. Not the monster. The monster was gone but so was the man that he could be, the man he used to be.

She wore Ginny's spring uniform. They were the same size, and it helped Hermione cope with the death. It was nice to have something of Ginny with her, to know that at some point not so long ago, Ginny had been alive and she had worn it. She adjusted the red and gold tie and pulled down the plaid pleated skirt. It looked no different than her own uniform, but something about comforted Hermione, soothing the worst of her pain.

She kept three pictures in her pocket. One of Ron, eyes sparkling like a topaz river, an earnest smile on his face. He was suspended in continuous motion, blinking and making kissy faces at the camera. It kept the memory of the man Ron had been alive.

The next was of Ginny. It was her first year at Hogwarts, and she was jumping on the dormitory bed, full of life and beauty. In the photo she just kept jumping on an endless loop, flashing dopy smiles at the camera.

The last was clipped from a newspaper and showed a scowling man with the face of a ferret and the attitude to match. This one wasn't a photo, but a black and white sketch. He had one eyebrow quirked as if daring the viewer to test their luck. Hermione couldn't quite figure out why she kept it, but she wasn't about to throw it away.

Hermione sighed to think about the pictures so near and dear to her heart. Two wanted murderers, and a dead girl.

Harry sat on his bed fiddling with his shoe laces. Hermione and Harry had hardly spoken to each other since the murder. The silence conveyed more than words ever could. The grief was everywhere. Fred and George were out in the court yard. They dealt with grief better outdoors. There was less there to remind them of Ginny.

A few days prior, Hermione had moved in with the boys, too unstable to be left alone. No one protested. If anything, they seemed happy to have someone else to share their grief with.

"They're coming today you know. The others, I mean." Harry called from his bed.

"I know."

"Do you think we're ready?"

"I don't think we'll ever be ready, Harry."

Harry sighed, "Do you think they know yet? About Ginny?"

"Some of them. It wasn't reported in the Prophet, but I imagine some of them know. News spreads fast around here. No one can keep a secret. There's no one you can trust."

"…We should have seen it coming, Hermione. We shouldn't have trusted him!" Harry suddenly jumped up, face red, eyes blurry with sorrow and rage.

"What's done is done, Harry. There's nothing we could have done." Hermione kept trying to tell herself that, but she knew it was a lie. She could have told someone what he was doing to her. She could have gotten the monster locked up in Azkaban long ago, and Ginny would still be alive.

"I should have never trusted him! I should have believed Malfoy!"

"Malfoy just killed his entire family. It's not like he's the greatest source of truth and goodness in this world either. Who can blame you for not believing?"

"He was hitting you. I should have known. I guess, deep down, I did know. I just didn't want to believe it!" Harry gritted his teeth and paced back and forth across the narrow dorm. His hands clenched into fists and his knuckles cracked with every step.

"Harry, it's not your fault. I should have told you."

Harry whirled around and threw his hands up in the air in anger, "You should have, but you didn't!"

"I'm sorry, Harry… if I had known he was capable of this, I would have told you. Believe me." Hermione shivered.

"I'm your best friend." Harry snarled through closed teeth.

"I know."

"I only have one question for you, Hermione. I'm done with the secrets, the lies. Tell me the truth." Hermione could see unshed tears glistening in his brown eyes.

"Why did you tell Draco Malfoy? Why could you not tell me, but you could tell the resident death-eater?" Harry sat back down and let the angry bravado fall. There was only sadness written on his face as he sank into the mattress.

"He found out on his own, Harry! I didn't tell him anything!"

"…Whatever."

Harry stood up, his shaggy bangs covering his eyes, and took Hermione with by the hand with surprising force. He all but ran to the door and threw her out like yesterday's trash.

"Harry, what are you-?"

"Get out, Hermione."

**Short, I know. Tomorrow there will be another update, and here is a few things it will feature:**

**-An unsolvable puzzle**

**-Forgiveness**

**-A good deed**

**I would love to hear any theories on what this combo might mean.**


	28. Codes

Hermione picked at her porridge with little excitement, carving out pivots and pot holes in the surface with the tip of her spoon. Every now and then she would take a long sip from her glass of orange juice, and run her fingers self-consciously through her tangled hair. She tapped her foot anxiously out of habit, as she glanced searching around the tables of the Great Hall, seeking her friends. It was peculiar for them to be late. She was used to being the one sought out, not the one searching. She was eternally ten-minutes late. Finally, Hermione spotted the familiar brown hair in the crowd, flanked by a ghostly pale blond.

"Morning!" Neville greeted cheerfully as he took his customary seat across the long table. Luna trailed, never far behind, plopping down at Hermione's side.

"Hello, Hermione." Luna gazed dreamily in her direction, emanating a subtle sense of otherworldliness with the slightest phantom of a smile gracing her lips.

"Good morning," Hermione grinned back, still nervously tapping her foot. Anxiety had slowly riddled its way into the crevices and contours of her brain over the time span of several months. She feared growing complacent only to be caught by surprise. Ron, and Malfoy were gone. But their return seemingly could happen at any moment, in her distorted view of reality. She often times felt like a PTSD victim. Sometimes she thought she saw a flash of ginger hair, or felt the familar glare of silver eyes.

"How'd you sleep?" Neville inquired as he stuffed his mouth with greasy bacon and buttered toast.

"Fine, I suppose. And yourself?" Hermione tried to breathe deeply and pause her compulsive tapping.

"Great. I feel very rested. How about you, Luna?" Neville's grandmother never taught him not to talk with a full mouth. Bread crumps fell out of his mouth in a torrent of grain.

"I don't sleep. I photosynthesize like a plant. I have no need for sleep." Luna gazed off in another direct as she replied with a dreamy-half lidded stare.

Hermione shook her head at the illogical ramblings of her friend and shared a glance with Neville as he raised his eyebrows at the absurdity of the statement.

These last few months hadn't been easy for Hermione, but every day it got a little easier. Her chest felt a little lighter. She felt a little stronger.

The more time passed, the easier it became to forget about the trauma she'd endured. The bruises on her body faded. Ginny's bed was filled by a late coming first year. Draco's seat in Arithmacy class had been filled by a lovely fifth year from Ravenclaw. If she avoided thinking about the incident, it was almost as though it had never happened.

Except for the anxiety that racked the cords of her heart apart. There was no escaping it. But that was to be expected, she supposed.

For the first few weeks after the death of Ginny and the loss of Harry, she had been an inconsolable wreck. Hermione would disappear for hours, hiding in the library or the commons, or searching for the tower. When she did go to classes she would just sit like a statue and sketch the faces of those she had lost again and again in her notebook. She grew twisted and warped- obsessed with keeping their memories alive. So scared to forget, even for a moment.

She only wore Ginny's clothing, and couldn't be bothered to take care of herself. She refused to eat. She was rendered mute by the emotional toll of the incident, gagged by her own heart. She stopped doing even the littlest of personal hygiene tasks. She lived like a rat, scurrying in secret from room to room, and hiding under blankets and behind books.

Hermione doubted she would have ever recovered if it weren't for Neville, the one person she could always rely on.

Neville came to her in the paramount of her descent into madness. He brought her a cup of tea and a bag of prepackaged cookies, and reminded her that someone still cared. He grabbed her hand, and brought her to the surface. She was left alive and well, but irreversibly warped. Neville mended her heart, but it would always remain crooked. It was as though he had carefully stitched the little pieces of her heart together again. Some pieces though could never be found, and the dark voids were full with nightmares and demons that would surely plague her for the rest of her days.

Luna joined the pair soon after, and thus the new trio was born. Hermione would never feel the connection with Luna that she felt with Neville. Luna hadn't been there in the weeks after Ginny's death, and Harry's desertion.

As she recovered, she watched Harry from a distance. He crumbled and cracked and seemed to slowly fall apart. Hermione tried to console him more than once, only to be shut out. She looked at him from the opposite end of the long table. His glasses were broken and fixed with duct tape. He had no one to repair them anymore. He had his own little section at the end of the table. His bespectacled eyes stared into every face, seeking many different people, and never finding the visages he searched for so desperately. The scene reminded Hermione of a man making a reservation at a fancy party for a vast group, only to end up sitting alone, stood up by the people he once called friends.

Hermione's stomach churned as she nibbled at her sausage and tentatively sipped at her juice. She was always a little queasy in the morning.

She let Luna and Neville chat amongst themselves for a few moments as she carefully rubbed her stomach, and tapped her foot in the same neurotic pattern. She tapped, and tapped, and tapped. Her feet thumped endlessly. Hermione was a trapped jack rabbit, always thumping at the ground but never going anywhere. She kept up with her compulsive tapping until another pair of feet brushed lightly over hers, softly pressing them to the floor with a gentle strength.

Hermione looked up into Neville's eyes, and he glanced at her firmly with his perpetual stare of borderline exasperation. He worried for her. He wished she would calm down and go about her life as though nothing had ever happened. She could see it written plainly in his eyes.

Their brief non-verbal confrontation ended with the weekly dropping of the mail. The owls fluttered in on feathered wings, their talons full of goodies for the students below. The noisy Great Hall was suddenly jubilant with excitement. Neville broke his stare and lifted his feet in anticipation. He always got packages and letters from his grandmother every time the mail dropped.

Hermione merely continued to create divots in her porridge and tap her feet. She never sent or received mail. She wasn't surprised when a plump package plopped in Neville's lap. Neville's cheeks grew rosy with bashfulness.

"I wish Gran would quit sending me presents. I never get much use out of them before the bullies in Slytherin get a hold of them."

His words brought back the wistful image of Malfoy, high up on his broom stick, twirling Neville's remberall in one hand as he taunted Harry from above. The memory hit her with a wave of unexpected nostalgia. She longed for the days when everything was normal, and no one was truly evil, and the biggest conflicts were stupid fights over insignificant little objects. She wished she could step into the memory, and shut the door, and live it out all over again.

As per usual, a neatly folded paper fell onto the table, with pages one through four landing in Hermione's soggy porridge. The _Daily Prophet_ was Hermione's only vice, a subscription kept through the years, and Hermione's one parcel of mail.

"Anything interesting in the news, Hermione?" Neville glanced in her direction as he held up his new sleeping robes.

Hermione unfolded the paper, shaking out the lumps of oat-meal.

"Probably not. There's rarely anything in the paper except for gossip and crime news." Hermione half smiled as she scanned the first page, sipping on her orange juice. She was halfway through a deep gulp when it all burst through her lips once more in shock, splashing against the paper and leaving a sopping wet stain, smearing the print.

Her heart stopped beating as she stared into the silver eyes of a hurricane. His blond hair was crisp and perfect, his vampire-like smile white and gleaming. She recognized it as his school photo from the year prior. He looked like a viper, regel and dangerous. The photo blinked and cocked a precarious eyebrow in the reader's direction, the motion playing on loop again and again.

"Hermione! Are you okay?" Neville exclaimed worriedly. Hermione didn't respond, as she clutched the front page with animal-ferocity.

"I do believe the smiggle-hoppers have got her tongue, Neville. You must feed her tea tree oil and nargle eggs for a week and she will regain her speech abilities."

Neville ignored his eccentric friend's suggestion, instead opting to pry the newspaper out of Hermione's stiffly clutched hands and see the shocker for himself. His eyes grew large at the image, but he remained composed.

"Calm down. It's just news from the Ministry on his possible whereabouts. There's no way he'll find you here. There's no need to worry." Neville reached over the table to pat Hermione's shoulder reassuringly, as he handed the paper back to Hermione.

"Yea… I know…" Hermione responded almost robotically. She read the article below the image slowly, absorbing it like a bitter wine, fearing the worst.

Malfoy Murders- UPDATE!

_The gruesome murder of the Malfoy family remains unsolved as the primary suspect, Draco Malfoy, eludes capture. On the 19__th__ of last September the corpses of both Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were discovered long dead in the Malfoy mansion. There is strong evidence that the couple's only son, Draco Malfoy, is responsible for the brutal murder of both his parents. Since December the Ministry has received numerous tips regarding the run-away but none have led to arrest. The public is reminded that the young Malfoy is an extremely dangerous assailant and under no circumstances should be confronted by citizens. If you believe you see Draco Malfoy, you are advised to remain calm, get as far away as possible, and contact The Ministry. _

_The Ministry recently received a letter from Malfoy, with an encrypted message that supposedly holds the key to his seemingly intractable location. This message is enclosed below:_

_**Dear Ministry,**_

_**I know that you know that I killed my parents. You know full well what I'm capable of. I will not have mercy. I will not hesitate to kill again to get what I want. If you don't print this letter, exactly as I write it, in the Daily Prophet then people will die. This I promise you.**_

_**I know you're reading this, you sniveling book worm. You know who you are. I know things that you need to know. We have a lot to talk about. I know you're smart (not as smart as me but still very smart), and you're the only person that can crack my code and find my hideout. This won't be easy.**_

_**(XII)CCXII**_

_**9/12/142**_

_**Good Luck, **_

_**Draco Malfoy.**_

Hermione stuffed the new-paper into her robe pocket and continued to eat breakfast and amongst her friends as though nothing were wrong. But the gears in her mind were turning, whirring. She knew exactly who the murderer was addressing, and she knew that she would probably regret it when she found him. Yet, against her better judgment she embraced his challenge with open arms and started her journey towards the murderous viper that she had come to love and loathe so.


	29. Codes Cracked

**Some people have asked me about the time frame of this fanfiction. I've kept it a little obscure for a reason (namely because I wasn't entirely certain myself for the first few chapters). This story can't exactly be described as canon in any way (obviously, in the actual books, Ron and Hermione didn't really start dating till 7****th**** year, but in this fanfiction Ron has been dating and subsequently abusing her for 3 years). All the events of books 1-5 are canon in this fic (aside from a few obvious deviations). This fanfiction takes place in Hermione's 6****th**** year. Make of that what you will (at this point in the story Hermione is of age). Just a quick nonconsequintial reply to a few questions I've received over the years. Read on!**

Hermione cut out the small news print letter, and stuffed it into the front pocket of her robe. There it set for months, constantly read and reread, crumbled and uncrumpled, but never solved. Hermione poured over it again and again, each time with more frustration. She was careful never to let it fall into the wrong hands; the last thing she wanted was to be caught with it, and publically align herself with yet another coldblooded murderer.

She supposed she should be happy, with both of her terrorizers missing in action, but their absence just left her feeling out of sorts. Her entire life was altered beyond repair- some days it seemed almost as though none of it had every happened. When she sat next to Neville, or waved at Luna in the hall, it was almost as though it was the way things always were. The Golden Trio was a thing of the past, with one member wanted for murder, and the other left a recluse. The seemingly eternal torment from the Slytherins was at an end, with their ring leader's mysterious disappearance. Hermione's former life of excitement (and unfortunate "accidents"), was long gone. Yet, Hermione was far from happy, in her new normal life.

The tiny shred of paper, eternally in her pocket, chained her to her previous existence. She was haunted by answerless questions, left reading the same words over and over again. Hermione read every issue of the Prophet that had since been released, hoping for a fresh hint from Malfoy, but none came. In the back of her mind, she worried for him, as much as she loathed him. He was the first to notice the bruises, and the only one to ever truly act on his knowledge. In his own vindictive way, he'd tried to protect her, even if she hadn't appreciated it at the time. Hermione, in her heart of hearts, doubted that he was pure evil; her brain, on the other hand, knew better.

Malfoy was everything wrong in the world; the embodiment of prejudice, greed, egoism, and sin.

Yet, Hermione knew a different, hidden side to him as well. She knew he cared, on some level. He'd made that apparent, perhaps not in word, but in action.

And with the little shed of paper he had given her the answer to the question on everyone's minds: _Where is Draco Malfoy?_

Yet, his answer spawned yet more questions.

The paper in the pocket slowly yellowed and frayed as the months drew on without incident. As time wore on, Hermione spent more and more of her time poring over the words there. What were they? A cryptogram? Personal symbols? A kind of uncrackable code?

It was the beginning of June, and Hermione could feel Malfoy slipping through her fingers. Surely, he wouldn't wait forever for her to solve his puzzle. Some days, she wondered if he had already left the place he supposedly hid when he sent the letter. This thought didn't stop her from constantly trying to solve the unsolvable riddle.

More often than not she spent her weekends hunched over books in the library, attempting to make sense of Malfoy's note, with little success. Or, more accurately, no success at all.

The June air hit her like a warm blanket as she walked into her empty dormitory. The windows opened out into the dusky sky, as the last hint of azure lingered on the horizon. Hermione collapsed onto her mattress, exhausted from countless hours of page turning at the library. The virtual entirety of the Gryffindor house was below, celebrating the win of the House Cup (which Hermione could really care less about). She changed into her night robes, moving stiffly into their velvet embrace. The newspaper clipping never far from Hermione's reach, was carefully placed underneath her pillow as she curled up into her welcoming bed and her taut muscles relaxed into the lull of sleep.

Hermione's dreams were complex and colorful, and ever changing. One moment she was at the top of the empire state building eating boiled radishes with Luna Lovegood (which was most peculiar as Hermione loathed radishes), the next she was deep underwater wrestling with a merman who had stolen her copy of _Hogwarts a History. _She passed like a dancer going from partner to partner, from dream to dream. Spinning and twirling into the arms of different men in the ballroom. Her unconscious mind rested at Harry for a moment, conjuring the image of pancakes that screamed with Dobby's voice as her chewed them. Hermione's dreams flittered to Ron, a momentary nightmare, watching from far above as he and Ginny shoved her into the fireplace. Finally, Hermione's subconscious made its last rotation around the dance floor, gripping the arm of her last partner as the unconscious mind began its familiar waltz.

Very suddenly, she felt as though she'd been plunged from the warmth and comfort of her bed into a vat of icy water. Everything was suddenly very sharp, focused in a way her dreams had never been before. She peered curiously around the room, and noticed a throne made of stone, placed atop a series of steps. Hermione approached it cautiously. She glanced from side to side and found herself in a large roman temple, complete with busts of ancient gods and ornate paintings on every wall. Her pulse quickened as she approached the throne. The entire thing was covered in intricately carved snakes in varying positions. She stared into the steely eyes of a viper on the upper arm and for a moment the eyes teemed with life. They held a storm in their depths, swirling in the endless grey. They held her gaze captive, beckoning with her to come closer. Hermione hunched ever closer, and her soft fleshy nose brushed against the cold statue. The moment her skin touched the stone, the snake began to transform. The strange stirring life within its eyes exploded, encompassing its entire statuesque body. It slowly began to squirm and wither, smirking at her from behind its snaky lips. In a flash, it sprang onto her, its fangs extended, dripping with bitter poison. Venom pulsed through her veins as the snake broke the skin of her neck. Abruptly, the snake pulled away and Hermione stared at it with shock and pain radiating through her entire body. And there he stood. Blond hair sleek and shiny, silver irises wrought with malevolence, and that eternally present smirk.

Hermione awoke with a start.

Immediately she grabbed the tattered note from underneath her pillow, struggling to perceive the code's lettering in the dark.

**(XII)CCXII**

**9/12/142**

She read it over and over again, the repetition and tediousness of the action helping to relieve her tension leftover from the nightmare. She stuffed it back into its hiding place after her heart had stopped racing.

It was a most peculiar dream. A roman temple, a snake, a fatal bite, and finally, the mysterious Malfoy. It was bizarre to say the least. She had duel trains of thought in her head, one pondering, as she always did, the meaning of the code, the other pondering the unusual dream.

'_Roman temples and Draco Malfoy… how ridiculous!' _she thought to herself as she pondered the X's and C's and I's of the secret message.

It hit her like a piano as she made a sudden connection.

(XII)CCXII. They weren't a code of any sort. They were roman numerals. How could she have missed something so painfully obvious?

It translated out to (12) 212.

She could only think of one place in the wizarding world in which numbers were set up in such a way, with security only second to the building in which she was standing, Gringott's bank.

Hermione had cracked a piece of the puzzle. Elation flooded through her body despite her continuing befuddlement at the seemingly random combination at the bottom.

She only knew one thing for certain: Sometime very soon she would be paying a visit to Passageway 12, Vault 212.

**Yes, I do realize Gringott's isn't actually set up that way. It was originally supposed to be an actually vault number. I googled what this number would be in Roman Numerals and got (XII)CCXII. Little did I know, that when Hermoine actually was solving it, google wouldn't tell me what number it translates back to. Oops! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and don't forget to review.**


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